Only Fools Rush In
by givemekevinbacon
Summary: Wilson had been gone for three days, six hours, and 17 minutes, while Cuddy had been sitting next to him for 14. So far she'd insulted him once and finished her drink; he thought they were making progress. A Post Series Finale fic, where House and Cuddy try to fix their broken relationship. Huddy. M rating starts at chapter 5!
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone! As I'm sure some of you did, I really missed seeing Cuddy in the series finale. This story will act as a follow up to the series finale and go from there, exploring House and Cuddy as they try to mend their broken relationship. I've been working on this for about a month, and have about seven chapters completed. I envision that the story will be about 10 chapters total, so most of the work is done. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters-but they own my soul.

* * *

House glanced down at the watch on his wrist; it was 7:03. He'd been sitting in this bar for over three hours. He took another sip of his drink, the alcohol burning down his throat as he swallowed. He set his empty glass on the bar, motioning for the bartender to refill it.

The man behind the bar gave him a wary look. House simply glared back at him, daring him to deny him the liquid. He wasn't drunk, but he was numb. The alcohol simply added to the numbness. He'd lost everything in the span of a year, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

Wilson had died earlier in the week. Cuddy had disappeared form his life over a year ago. Technically, Gregory House didn't even exist.

He was nobody, and he had _no one. _

Eventually, the bartender made his way over to where House was seated and refilled the glass in front of him. House nodded in appreciation, unwilling to speak a word to him.

Wilson's funeral had been earlier that day. He hadn't gone of course, but he had watched from a bar across the street. He saw the masses of people walk in; previous patients, past girlfriends, co-workers, family and friends lined the church pews.

The irony of it all was almost laughable. The doctor who could nurse cancer stricken patients back to health couldn't save himself.

In the end, House has ended up "killing himself" so he could really live for the next five months; so he could be there for the one person who had always been there for him.

They had rode their motorcycles from state to state, stopping in crappy diners and rest stops along the way, staying in lavish hotels and wasting money on booze and food. No medicine, no cases; just the two of them, enjoying what little time they had left.

When the cancer had gotten bad, House had pulled a drip of morphine from his jacket pocket. He had stolen it from the hospital before they left, hoping Wilson would choose to forego the pain and suffering that lying in a hospital until the very end would bring.

House had sat with him when he had done it, when he had finally let the pain disappear from his life. He held his hand as he went, a single tear running down the side of his face. He had officially lost everything.

House took another sip of his drink. He looked back down at his watch; a mere four minutes had gone by.

He glanced around the room, taking in the crowd. There were several under-aged students milling around and making bets on who could consume the most amount of beer in forty-five seconds. A group of women in their mid thirties were seated towards the back and appeared to be complaining about their jobs, husbands, and seemingly uneventful lives.

He would give anything to have that sort of normalcy in his life.

House almost fell out of chair when he saw her. She was standing outside of the bar with one hand on the door, her feet planted firmly on the ground as if she couldn't decide if she wanted to go in.

He looked down at his glass, noticing that he hadn't finished it yet. Surprisingly, he hadn't taken an unusual amount of Vicodin today. He looked over again, confirming that she was in fact there.

This wasn't a hallucination.

He saw her take a deep breath as she walked through the door, their eyes meeting for the first time in over two years. She looked down as she walked, afraid to look at him.

House was at a loss. This was clearly no coincidence, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face her after the day he'd had. He'd been living under the assumption that they would never have any type of relationship again, and that in all likelihood, their paths would never cross again.

He wanted to get up from his seat and avoid her altogether, but his feet refused to budge. He couldn't escape her if he wanted to. Eventually, she would catch up.

"You're supposed to be dead," said Cuddy, throwing her purse on the bar next to him.

" And we were never supposed to see each other again. Looks like we're even."

House looked over to where she stood, taking in her presence. Her arms were folded across her chest and she had this look of utter disappointment on her face. But she looked good. She always looked good.

"Wilson called me about a week before.._it _happened," Cuddy began, as she pressed her fingers to her forehead and rubbed her temple, her eyes closing as she spoke. "He told me what you did. You're an ass."

House simply stared down at his drink, taking it into his hand and swirling it around.

"People are incapable of change. Something you figured out quite well if I recall," snapped House.

He glanced up at her and tried to ignore the brief wave of sadness and pity that seemed to come over her.

Cuddy didn't respond. Instead she sat down in the seat next to him, raising her hand to get the bartender's attention.

"Grey Goose and Tonic," said Cuddy as he walked over to her. "And uh..keep 'em coming," she whispered.

The bartender poured her drink and set it down in front of her. She gave him a small smile in appreciation.

They sat there silently for a few moments, both afraid of what they might say if they dared to open their mouths. Cuddy played with the straw that had come in her drink, casually stirring the ice around.

She picked up the lime that lay sliced on the rim, gently squeezing the juice into the mixture.

He watched her intently as she played with her drink. He could tell she had no idea what to say. He had thought of this moment every day for the past year. He'd imagined that they would fight mercilessly at first, slinging insults from left to right, placing blame on one another for everything that had happened. They would meet again as enemies, but hopefully part ways as friends. Of course, that was simply something he imagined.

But now, none of it seemed right. He didn't want to yell at her, or blame her for his problems, or even talk to her really. Knowing that she was sitting next to him was enough.

He glanced down at his watch. It was 7:21. Wilson had been gone for three days, six hours, and 17 minutes. Cuddy had been sitting next to him for fourteen minutes. So far she'd insulted him once and finished her drink; he thought they were making progress.

He watched as the bartender refilled her drink, the man's eyes conveniently landing on her chest. They lingered there for a moment until Cuddy raised her eyebrows suspiciously at him. House smirked as he took a sip of his drink.

"Why did you do it?" asked Cuddy as she turned her head towards him.

"Which "what' are we talking about here?" asked House

Cuddy glared at him, clearly not wanting to put up with his games. "Don't be an idiot, you what I'm talking about it. Why not just stay at the hospital working with Wilson until it was time for you to serve out your sentence?"

"But then we wouldn't have gotten to ride our motorcycles off into the sunset together. What's the point of having a motorcycle if you can't do that?"

"What's the point of having a life if you don't appreciate it?" Cuddy spat back, clearly angry at the decision he made.

"Why do you care what I do?" asked House. "It doesn't really affect you in any way. Why are you even here? You're clearly still angry with me, and it doesn't look like you want to be here. So please, enlighten me as to what you're trying to do or just go home."

"You think I don't have a reason to be angry at you?" asked Cuddy in disbelief. "What, did you expect me to walk in here and instantly forgive you?"

"Didn't say that. I'm still trying to figure out why you're here in the first place." said House

"I told you, Wilson called me." said Cuddy. She glanced down and ran a hand through her hair, something she always did when she wasn't sure what to say.

"That's not really an explanation. Actually, it's not an explanation at all, more like a restatement of an event that previously occurred."

Cuddy sat silent for a few moments, trying to choose her words carefully.

"I just didn't want you to feel alone." Cuddy looked over at him, a small frown on her face. She looked as if she was willing herself not to cry.

House didn't say anything back. He didn't want to admit that he's felt alone for a long time, even before Wilson died. Wilson was his best friend, his confidant, his most trusted ally.

But he wasn't her.

"I'm glad you came Cuddy," said House softly so only she could hear.

Cuddy reached across the bar and placed her hand on top of his. She squeezed it lightly.

* * *

About an hour later Cuddy was three drinks in. Their conversations had started to get lighter, and it almost felt like they were back to the way they were before they started dating.

From the outside looking in, it would have looked like two friends catching up.

"No!" exclaimed Cuddy, throwing her head back in laughter. "What about the time you got shot, or the time we thought you were going to die from Small Pox?"

"Go big or go home, that's what I always say." House smiled over at her. "What are you doing now, anyway? Finally found your true calling and decided to be an exotic dancer?" House asked with a smirk on his face.

Cuddy glared at him, tilting her head to the side with pointed eyes. " I don't want to talk about work. "

"I'm going to take your refusal to answer as a sign that I'm right."

"I'm still a doctor, House." Cuddy began fidgeting with the bracelet on her left hand, looking for a distraction from the conversation.

House looked over towards her, his eyes resting on her delicate hands that lay haphazardly on the bar.

"Are you nervous about something?" he asked, his gaze never leaving her.

"No," said Cuddy, a confused look forming on her face. " What gave you that impression?"

"You always play with your jewelry when you're nervous," House stated simply. "You did it before every meeting you went to, every time you left me alone with Rachel or when you were talking on the phone with your mother. It's one of your tells."

Cuddy removed her fingers from the bracelet, looking down in embarrassment. "I was never afraid of leaving with Rachel with you." Cuddy looked up at him as she took another sip of her drink.

"No," began House. "But leaving her with alone with anyone always made you a little nervous. "

"She's my daughter, what can I say?" Cuddy lifted her right hand in the air, taking a sup of her drink with the left.

"How is the little rugrat anyway? Bringing any boys home yet? Knowing her mom she'll probably start early," said House, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

Cuddy was taken aback by his question. The insult she was used to, the insult she could handle, but she hadn't expected him to inquire about Rachel.

She wasn't sure she was ready to talk about Rachel. Talking about Rachel would lead to talking about the one thing she had been trying to avoid talking about all night.

The thing she referred to as "The Incident". She knew that they would eventually have to talk about it; she _wanted _to talk about it. Just not right now, not when they were both overstricken with guilt and sadness, neither knowing what they might say.

"She's fine, trying to adjust to her new school and make new friends. It's been kind of hard these past few months,"said Cuddy softly.

House looked down at the floor. He hadn't met to bring up Rachel so soon.

"She's a smart kid, she'll be fine." House paused, watching the look on Cuddy's face change from sadness to what he seemed to be a look of pride. Rachel meant the world to her, and you could tell.

She appreciated the sentiment and wondered just how far she wanted to take this conversation. It was as if the minute they saw each other they entered into this unspoken agreement; they wouldn't talk about anything in their past of it was going to hurt the other.

They were both in too much pain already; there was no reason to dredge up the past.

"You know, " began Cuddy, fiddling with the lime once more, trying to squeeze every last bit of juice into the glass. "She asks about you sometimes. Especially when that idiotic pirate cartoon comes on television."

House closed his eyes. He had hoped that the kid would just forget about him entirely. He already felt guilty for driving them out of their home; he didn't want to be responsible for Rachel losing a friend at the same time.

" What did you tell her?" he asked, curious if she had been told the whole story.

"I told her that you had to stay here in Princeton while we moved. She didn't understand why you couldn't come with us and was constantly badgering me with questions about what you were doing, and why we no longer talked on the phone, or you never visited." Cuddy paused, a lump in her throat forming. She hadn't meant to tell him all of this.

She had told herself that she wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of watching her miss him, even though he was only inches away.

Cuddy began to speak again. " I told her that sometimes adults have to be away from the people they love, even if it's just for a little while."

He didn't respond for a few moments. He turned his head towards her, their eyes meeting for what seemed like hours.

He glanced down at his watch; it had only been a minute and a half.

"That was very Mommyish of you."

Cuddy smiled at him, glad he was able to make light of the situation. She wasn't sure she could deal with much more darkness.

"What about you?" asked Cuddy, "How's your Russian-rent-a-wife?"

He let out a small laugh. He had missed her condescending sense of humor.

"She's gone. She got a little scared when our fake marriage turned into a hostage situation."

Cuddy tilted her head to the lift, giving him a look that he was all too familiar with.

He took another sip of his drink. "I wasn't exactly honest about when her green card came through. She found out and left, I have no idea where she is."

"Why did you hide it from her? You clearly cared about _her_ well being," said Cuddy

She regretted it the moment she said it. She hadn't meant to throw the word "care" into his face.

House swallowed before he spoke. "I didn't want to face losing anyone else I guess."

They were both silent for a few moments. Cuddy was becoming restless, and she was afraid of what might happen is she sat at the bar any longer.

"Can we get out of here? If I sit here any longer bad things are going to happen." said Cuddy.

"I don't know about you, but I kind of like the idea of bad things happening."

Cuddy rolled her eyes at him as she grabbed her purse from off the bar and took one last sip of her drink. She dug through her purse and left some money on the table.

She stood there for a few moments and tried to regain the balance that the alcohol had altered. She finally composed herself and reached out her hand to help House get up form the chair.

He handed her his cane instead, gripping the edge of the bar to hold himself up instead. He swung his leg over to the other side of his chair, his feet landing on the ground.

He held out his hand and motioned for the cane, a look of frustration upon his face. Cuddy obliged, handing him his cane.

They slowly made their way out of the bar, they had been sitting there for so long that they had begun to sober up, although neither were in any state to drive.

Instead they just started walking. They didn't say a word to each other as they walked, choosing instead to stare at the ground as their feet pounded the pavement.

After about ten minutes Cuddy spotted a bench across the way. She looped her arm through House's, nodding in the direction of where the bench sat. She guided him over, afraid that if they kept walking his leg would begin to act up.

House was glad for the pause in their impromptu stroll; his leg was beginning to hurt. He laid the cane one the side of the bench, rubbing his leg as he sat down.

Cuddy shot him a sympathetic look and placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to provide a little bit of comfort to him.

After the silence became too much for her, Cuddy turned her head towards him and began to speak. "Can I ask you a question?"

House nodded at her, silently telling her to continue.

Cuddy took a deep breath before she spoke. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer to this, but she knew she had to ask.

"How come you could be there for Wilson through all of that; the pain, the suffering, the inevitable downfall. But you couldn't muster up the strength to be there for me?"

"Those were two completely different situations."

"No," Cuddy shook her head before he had the chance do go on. "You don't get to do that, you don't get to pick and choose when you're going to be a good person."

"Actually, that's exactly what I get to do. I'm a big believer in that whole free will thing." House turned to look at her, his eyebrows rising as he spoke. He was baiting her, trying to get her angry enough so that she would on longer want to discuss it.

Because the truth was, he had no idea why he couldn't be there for her when she needed him most.

"Stop trying to rationalize your way out of this and just answer the damn question." She was growing frustrated with every passing moment. She had been suppressing these feelings of anger and sadness towards him for too long.

She loved him with all of her heart, she really did. But she hated him; hated what he did to her and the their relationship ended, she hated the way she ran away from it all because she no longer felt safe around him, she hated that she desperately wanted to forgive him even though he didn't deserve it.

She folded her arms across her chest, moving her hand up and down her arm to warm herself up. The night air was crisp on her bare shoulders.

House looked down towards the ground. "I don't know why I treated you the way that I did."

The air was silent between them. There were two birds chirping in the distance, one immediately after the other. It seemed to go on for minutes.

"I have one weakness," she stated, the words beginning to pour out of her mouth. "My whole life has been a series of successes, but there is just one thing I can't get rid of, no matter what I say or do. It always comes back to me."

"You talk to your ass? Even for you, that's a bit vain," joked House

Cuddy let out a small smile. "You're always going to be in my life, House. Even in times when I wish you would just _go away._"

She looked over at him as she spoke. She laid her hand on top of his like she had done earlier that night.

"He's gone Cuddy," he said, using the same tone he would use as if he were telling her that the sky was blue.

" I know," she responded softly. She still hadn't removed her hand from his.

Their eyes met for a brief period. They could practically feel one another staring into their souls. House usually felt intruded upon in times like this, but with Cuddy, it was different.

It had always been different with her.

"I'm miserable," he said, a sense of finality in his tone.

"Well," began Cuddy, squezzing the hand that lay beneath hers. "They say misery loves company."

He laced his fingers through hers.

A few moments later, the two birds that had been chirping earlier flew past them, their songs now in perfect harmony with the other.

* * *

That's it for now! I really hope you guys enjoyed this and are excited for what's to come. I know I am! Leave a review to let me know what you thought! Compliments and critiques are always welcome.

-Alison


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the kind words of encouragement I received on the last chapter! I'm so glad so many of you enjoyed the first installment. It really is inspiring to hear positive feedback. This chapter has a bit more serious tone to it, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

**Disclaimer: **They're not mine, unfortunately.

* * *

Cuddy opened her eyes, confused at first by her unfamiliar surroundings. She looked around the room, a panic attack about to set in, when she remembered where she was.

She rolled her eyes when she felt House's arm resting underneath her head; he had started the night in the bed opposite of her.

She slowly turned her head towards his chest to see if he was still asleep. He was breathing steadily and seemed to be in a deep slumber. Cuddy smiled, missing the feeling of waking up to him in the mornings. She allowed herself to lay there for one more minute, slowly counting the seconds inside of her head. Once her count hit 60, she reluctantly slithered out of his arms as carefully as she could and headed to the shower.

She stole a glance of her reflection in the mirror before she went into the bathroom. Her hair was a mess and her makeup was smudged, and she looked more tired than she had in years. She attributed it to the drinks she had consumed last night and trekked into the shower in hopes of improving her appearance.

Cuddy stood in the shower for a good fifteen minutes, going over what had happened the night before.

It was good to see House, it really was. And he seemed like he was doing okay, under the circumstances. In the span of a year's time, he had lost the two people who had always been there for him, no matter what. He was still of course, a self-medicating bastard who only looked out for himself, but there was something about him that seemed lighter.

Maybe it was because she had gotten darker since they last saw each other, the catastrophic events of their relationship wearing down on her emotional stability and overall happiness.

She let the hot water cascade on her face as she thought, her mind occupied with thoughts of him.

She thought about how much he claimed to love her, and how much she _knew _she loved him. She thought about how good he was with her daughter, even though he would never admit it. She thought about how great their relationship was, until all of a sudden it wasn't.

She thought about how he drove his car through her home, the image of falling plates and crushed furniture burned into her brain.

She thought about all the time she spent hating him in the months that followed, furious at him for running her out of her own home, forcing her to leave the job that she had given her entire life to.

She used to wake up in the morning and immediately think of just how angry she was with him, her heart physically aching with pain.

Then, all of a sudden, she woke up and the anger was no longer there. She certainly hadn't forgiven him, and she wasn't sure she would ever be able to, but she was no longer angry with him.

She no longer hated him.

Cuddy removed her face from underneath the water.

She began to cry.

* * *

House had woken up the moment she had stirred within his arms. He could practically feel her smile into his arm, and he didn't dare to move.

He felt her hesitate before she settled down into the crook of his arm, but he knew what she was doing; she as going to give herself 60 seconds before she got up and headed to the shower.

She did it every morning they woke up together, and more often than not, it was the best part of his entire day.

He began to count with her, dreading the moment when she would finally reach 59. He felt her slowly untangle herself from him, letting out a small sigh as she walked away.

He opened his eyes when he heard the bathroom door shut and wondered how long she would be in there. He figured she would be a bit irritated with him when she emerged, considering she had instructed him to sleep in the other bed the night before.

He didn't know what she was doing here, or why she was allowing him to be in her company in the first place, but he was glad she was here. He had missed her more then he would care to admit, and now with Wilson gone, he felt more alone than ever.

His arm moved down to rub his leg; the pain was always worse in the morning.

He heard the water stop in the bathroom and decided against feigning sleep when Cuddy walked back into the room. He sat up and propped the pillow up further against the headboard.

Cuddy walked out of the bathroom draped only in small white towel, her wet hair dripping down her back; it was a familiar scene to him.

She jumped when she noticed he was no longer asleep.

"Morning sunshine," he said cheerfully, a giant grin on his face as he looked over her scantily clad body.

Cuddy lifted her hand to her chest, partly because he had scared her, and partly because she felt the need to cover herself up a bit.

"I thought you were sleeping," she muttered apologetically as she walked over to where her bags lay on the floor.

He tilted his head to the left, watching her as she crouched down to the floor. She had grabbed thrown her hair up in order to stop the dripping, mesmerizing him with her grace.

"Just woke up," he responded distractedly. "It's strange though, I could have _sworn _I went to bed over there last night." He pointed to the bed on the other side of the room, a small grin on his face.

A small smile escaped Cuddy's lips. "I noticed that," she retorted slyly.

They were quiet for a few moments. Cuddy's back was turned to him, and once she felt dry enough she slipped into a pair of underwear and clasped her bra around herself. She had thought about leaving to change in the bathroom, but decided against it.

He felt his face go red as she changed. He had almost forgotten just how beautiful she was, and how he had become familiar with every inch of her body.

She slid easily into a pair of jeans and a fitted grey long sleeved shirt and released her hair form the tie, letting it dry on it's own. She walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, an apprehensive look on her face.

He looked up at her and noticed that here eyes seemed unusually red, as if she'd been crying earlier. His face wrinkled with sadness when he realized the likely cause for her tears; himself.

"House," she began slowly, not sure how to approach the conversation. "We need to talk."

"We talked last night," he said simply.

"No, we danced around the subject and avoided talking about anything substantial that didn't have to do with Wilson," she fired back.

He was silent. He didn't know what he wanted her to say. He didn't feel like an apology was enough, but he wasn't sure what else she could want from him. He couldn't promise that he would ever hurt her again. Especially considering that after today, or whenever she went back home, he wasn't sure he would ever see her again.

It wasn't like they could have a life together; he was dead. He'd rather just enjoy the little time that he had left with her instead of hashing out to gory details of their broken relationship.

Cuddy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You drove your car through my house," she said, rubbing her temple with her two fingers.

"I know."

"That's it?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know? That's all you have to say?"

He sighed, looking down before he spoke. "I wish I hadn't done it, and I'm sorry that I quite literally drove you out of your own home, but there isn't anything I can do about it now, and you know that. I served my time in jail and you disappeared from my life, I think that's punishment enough."

"You think I'm trying to _punish _you?" she asked, her hands falling from her chest to the side of the bed. "I'm trying…to understand you, House."

" I was angry at you for abandoning me and giving up on us, and even angrier at myself for making you think I cared more about being high than being with you, and I just snapped."

She had to physical restrain herself from slapping him across the face.

"You think I abandoned you? Do you even _remember _what caused us to break up in the first place? Or were you just too damn high?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes.

"You told me you that didn't want me to change. It was foolish of me to think you were being honest with me, because it's pretty damn clear that you weren't being honest with yourself."

" I guess you're right, as usual. Congratulations House." she said sadly. Cuddy got up from the bed and walked over to the couch.

House sighed in frustration. He hadn't meant to upset her; he didn't want to fight with her, or blame her for all of his problems. He threw his leg over the side of the bed and slowly got up.

He limped over to where she was seated on the couch. Her head was bowed and her hands were folded in her lap.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "How did we get here?" she asked, leaning back against the couch. "Wilson's gone, you're for all intents and purposes, dead to the world, I'm running around like a crazy person trying to hold on to something that is _clearly _ruined."

His shoulders dropped, a look of disappointment washing over his face. "See, this is exactly why I didn't want to talk, " he said, taking a seat next to her as he spoke.

"We can't ignore our problems by sweeping them under the rug. That's what got us in trouble the first time."

"Look," he began, turning his head towards her. "I can't take back what I did, and you can't reverse any of the decisions you've made. I can't bring Wilson back, and I can't be a doctor again. These are facts, talking about them isn't going to change anything."

"Decisions I've made? What exactly does that mean?" she asked defensively

"I think you've forgotten that you're the one who ended our relationship, not me," he stated.

"Here we go again," she said, an ironic laugh escaping her mouth. "You're a drug addict House. You pop pills so you can avoid emotions, and whether you want to admit it or not, it prevents you from forming relationships with other people. I may have said the words that got us here, but you're the one who couldn't show up at the end of the day."

She turned her head away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes. She already felt guilty for how things had ended between them; she didn't need him placing blame on her as well.

"You're right, "he said simply. Cuddy's eyes wandered over to his and her eyebrow rose in amusement. He rarely ever admitted she was right.

He paused before he spoke again. "But you hold impossible standards for people so you can insure the inevitable demise of any relationship you embark on. You did it with Lucas, you did it with me, am I the only one sensing a pattern here?"

"All I wanted was for you to show up. I didn't ask you to cure cancer or run a marathon. All I wanted was for you to _be there_ for me, and you're just not capable of doing that." Her voice got softer. "It's not your fault, it's who you are."

He closed his eyes in frustration. This was nothing he hadn't heard from her before, the words she spoke when she ended their relationship burned into the back of his mind.

"I'm not the same person I was two years ago," he murmured, the words barely audible.

Cuddy took his hand in hers. " I know," she said, tracing the lines on his worn hands. "But I don't know if I can go through this again. You're like this giant roller coaster of pain that I can't seem to get off of."

"If you wanted to have sex, all you had to do was ask. No need to be so philosophical about it," he joked as he looked into her eyes.

She let out a small laugh, glad that he was able to find a tiny bit of humor in the situation; she had always loved that about him.

" I don have one question for you," he said seriously.

She nodded at him, urging him to go on.

"You believe that the world can be a better place if you try hard enough, " he stated matter-of-factly. He glimpsed over at her, the small smile on her face giving off the impression that he wasn't wrong. "Why is it that you're not willing to try with me?"

"I've been trying with you for over fifteen years," she fired back defensively. "Suddenly, it just didn't seem worth it anymore."

"So you're willing to sacrifice your own happiness just to prove a point? Do you realize how screwed up that is?" he asked, pleading with her.

"I'm not trying to prove a point, this isn't a game House."Cuddy said, the tension building up in her voice. "It just hurts too much, being around you, it just hurts. Being in this room and being so close to you is _killing _me, don't you understand?"

She took her hand away from his and stood up, pacing back and forth. She had faced internal dilemmas before, but nothing compared to this. Her heart was screaming at her to just give in to him, but her brain wasn't allowing her to even go near him.

She loved him; she was always going to love him. But that didn't change anything that had occurred over the past two years. She wished that love could actually conquer anything, but experience told her otherwise.

She needed to get out of this hotel room. Away from him, away from the pain and the guilt, she just needed to get _out. _

He didn't say a word while she paced back and forth in front of him. He wanted to take her hand back and tell her that everything was going to be okay, that he could do better, that they could do better. He wanted to tell her that he needed her in his life. He wanted to tell her that right now, he just needed a friend.

But he didn't say anything. He just watched.

She walked past him and crouched down on the floor, digging through her luggage. She pulled out a pair of black boots and slid her feet inside of them.

"I'm going to get coffee," she said softly. House opened his mouth to protest, but Cuddy continues before he had the chance to speak. "I'll be back later."

She could see the hurt in his eyes. She knew what he was thinking; that she wasn't going to come back, or that she was running away from their problems, that she was being a coward.

" I am coming back House," she said, her eyebrow wrinkling in pity as she looked at him. "I just… I just need some time."

She walked out of the hotel and shut the door softly, not wanting him to think that she was angry.

She paused as she shut the door, leaning against the barrier for support. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hated that she was acting this way; one minute they could be laughing and joking the way they had years ago, and the next minute they were at each other's throats—and not in a good way.

Cuddy shook her head slowly, walking down the hall as she tried to figure out what the hell she was going to do.

* * *

House looked at the clock that sat on the bedside table; Cuddy had been gone for almost an hour. He had showered and dressed, hoping that when he got out that would have returned.

He limped over to where his cane was leaning against the wall, picking it up before he walked out the door. He took the elevator down to the lobby of the hotel where they were staying. He didn't see her inside, so he ventured outdoors.

She was sitting on the curb of the road, her hair pulled back into a low messy bun, her foot tapping on the ground as she nursed her cup of coffee.

He stood there for a few moments and just watched. She dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, lifting it to her ear after she dialed the numbers on her Blackberry.

She spoke a few words that he couldn't hear and then paused. A few seconds later, he could see the curves of her mouth form into a smile, and she sat straight up; he assumed she was talking to Rachel.

He leaned back against the brick wall, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. He looked closer at her, noticing that there was an untouched cup of coffee sitting next to hers. He assumed it was for him, which meant that she had planned on coming straight back to the room.

He wondered what had stopped her. He knew that she was struggling with everything, and he knew that they had their problems, and that they both felt lost without Wilson.

He was lost in his thoughts when he saw Cuddy turn towards him, her eyes dropping in embarrassment when she realized he had been standing there.

He slowly walked towards her, giving her time to finish up her conversation.

" Well you tell Aunt Julia I said you can play with the toy dinosaurs if you want. Look sweetie, Mommy has to go, but I'll see you in a day or two, okay?" House saw Cuddy pause, allowing Rachel to say her goodbyes.

He sat down on the curb next to her as she spoke again. " Yes, I _promise _I'm coming home soon." Cuddy said, and House let out a small chuckle at the child's insecurities.

Cuddy turned towards him and quickly placed her hand over his mouth, glaring at him. " Be good for Aunt Julia, okay? Okay, I love you too. Bye sweetie."

Cuddy hung up the phone and removed her hand from him, smiling apologetically at him.

"Sorry, but I didn't want Rachel to hear you," she said defensively.

"Where have you been for the past hour?" he asked, ignoring her apology.

Cuddy lifted the cup to her lips, taking a sip before she answered him. "I told you," she began, setting the cup back down on the ground. "I was getting coffee."

"Okay, let me rephrase," said House. He glanced down at his face as he wrinkled his brow, pretending to think. "Where have you been for the past forty two minutes?"

Cuddy let her hands fall to the ground, bracing her self as she leaned back. She pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

House's eyes darted up and down her body as she moved, her t-shirt hugging her in all the right places.

She felt his eyes on her, and she rolled hers in response. She had to admit though, he did look pretty damn good. His hair had grown out some, and his face had a bit more stubble that she liked, but there was something about him that felt so captivating.

" Last Christmas Rachel had been dying to get me a present, even though we didn't even really celebrate the holiday. But she's five, and the only money she had was form her monopoly set, so she gave me a candy cane that her teacher had handed out at school."

House looked over at her, a confused look on his face. "What could this possibly have to do with coffee?" he asked. In reality, he was just looking for another excuse to look at her.

"She told me that the candy cane reminded her of you, and that maybe I could look at it sometimes and not be so sad anymore." She finished her story, completely ignoring his interruptions.

"So, to answer your question," she began, letting the words she said earlier resonate with him. "I was sitting here one the side of the road, thinking about all of the times you made me sad, and then I started to think about the times you made me feel like I was the only person in the world that mattered."

She looked over at him as she sat straight up, their eyes meeting. He was silent as she spoke.

" I just… don't want to be sad anymore," she stated simply. "And I don't know if we can ever be what we used to be, but I don't want you out of my life completely. Whether you intend to or not, you make my life better."

"You and Wilson were the only constants that I had in my life." He spoke softly in a tone that he mainly reserved for her. " I can't change what happened with Wilson, but I can change what happens with you."

She smiled at him and picked up the coffee cup that was lying next to the one she had been drinking from.

She held it out to him and he took it graciously, a devilish smile on his face.

He took a sip from the cup, cringing in disgust. "God, this stuff is awful."

He set the coffee back down on the ground, opting to take her hand instead.

* * *

That's all for now! Leave a review on you way out, if you wish. Compliments and critiques are always welcome!

-Alison


	3. Chapter 3

Hi all! Thanks so much for your continued support with this story, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! This next chapter is still them trying to figure things out, so I hope it's not moving_ too _slow for some of you. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Cuddy moved frantically around the hotel room, trying to gather all of her things together. In the midst of their drunken stupor the previous night, her clothes had been thrown haphazardly around the room as she unpacked.

She scratched her head as she found one of her black heels stuffed behind the couch. House sat on the chair across from her, reading some type of medical journal he had found in her bag.

She sent him an apologetic look as he read; they both knew that the journal was theoretically useless to him now, but he still seemed to enjoy it.

"I read things like this before I was a doctor, Cuddy," he said, never looking up from the magazine.

Cuddy bowed her head in embarrassment. She hated how she could be so readable around him. "Sorry, you're right."

She went back to stuffing miscellaneous items into her suitcase, the only sound in the room coming from the occasional turning of a page.

She looked over at him once more, a frown on her face as she tried to come up with a solution. "I'm the only one who knows about…your situation_, _right?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"The one and only," he responded, his words laced with double and triple meanings. "Unless you count Foreman, but even that I'm not so sure. You might want to ask him yourself. Can you imagine getting a phone call from someone you think is dead? Yikes."

Cuddy stared at him, a look of unbelief sprawled across her face. "House, what are you talking about?" she asked

"I may have led Foreman to believe that there is a _chance_ I could still be alive and kickin'," he said, a small smile forming on his face.

"You can't play with people's heads like that, House. What were you thinking?" she asked

"Will you relax? He may not even figure it out. I just left a little clue behind in his office. If he wants to do anything about it, he will. It's no big deal, really."

She shook her head at his nonchalance. "What if he does do something about it? What then? This could come back to bite you in the ass, and you know it. "

"Then I go back to jail for a couple months, maybe another year," he said simply.

Then it clicked. If Foreman knew, then there was a chance he would come looking for him, or turn it over to the police.

"And if you go back to jail, you might be able to practice medicine again," she said, finishing his train of thought for him.

"I knew you would get there one day," he said mockingly.

"House, if you want your old life back why don't you just turn yourself in? Why wait for Foreman to come looking for you?"

She walked over towards him, sitting on the sofa that lay directly next to the chair he was currently occupying.

He paused before he answered her, not sure how she would take what he was about to say. He put the medical journal on the floor, marking his page before he set it down.

"When I did that, I thought I was losing everything," he started quietly. " Wilson was the only thing that mattered in my life, and in five months time he was going to be gone. At that point I didn't care if I went back to jail, because I didn't have anything to lose. Things change."

"I can't be the one who stands in the way of you getting your life back. Right now I might be enough for you, but what happens when you wake up one morning, whether it's a month from now or a week from now, and realize that I'm holding you back. Then all of _this,_" she said, pointing first to him and then to her, "will have been for nothing."

"I told you once that I would choose you over saving other people's lives. I wasn't lying when I said that." His tone was soft and demure, and she desperately wanted to believe him. But she knew him, and being a doctor was part of who he was, or is.

She had never felt so conflicted in her entire life. She was a planner; every decision she made was one that had been meticulously thought out and examined from both sides. But with House, it was always a guessing game.

The only predictable thing about him was his knack for being unpredictable.

"House, it's who you are," she stated flatly. "I can't ask you to give up something like that when I'm not even sure what the two of us are doing."

"You're not asking," he responded. "I'm volunteering."

He looked over at her, a small smile on his face.

"This is what we're going to do," she started, her voice shifting to an administrative tone. "We're going to go back to my place, and you're going to stay there until we figure out something that's more…permanent. I have to be back at work soon, and normally I would be able to get you a job, but you're dead."

She had gone into full administrative mode, something he had missed over the past two years.

"You know, this would be a great time to tell me where you work, or live even. Since apparently I'm coming home with you," House said flatly.

"I live in Georgetown and work in the city, " she said quickly. "I have a million things to do at home, so we should probably head out soon. Is there anything from your old apartment or from Wilson's that you want to take with you?" she asked, hoping he would answer her questions instead of trying to discuss her living arrangements.

He didn't, of course.

"Georgetown, huh? Do you party with college kids now?"he asked, completely ignoring her other questions.

"All the time. Sometimes I bring them home and have sex with them too. The mom thing is a really big turn on," she said in a serious manner.

"You still haven't told me where you work."

"Why do you care so much?" she fired back. She hadn't expected him to be so interested in her life.

"I'm just curious. Cats and I have that in common."

She scowled at him before answering. " I help run the Endocrinology Department at George Washington Medical School, and I teach a class once a week."

"Do the kiddies have to address you as "Professor Cuddy"? Or are they all trying to figure out how you squeeze the girls into those tops you wear?"

"I _did_ get asked out by this really hot girl who sits in the front row every week," she said

"Seriously?" he asked with his mouth wide open, practically falling out of his chair.

"No," she said, shaking her head at him. "If you don't answer my question I'm just going to assume it's a no."

"I have some things at my old apartment. I do have one question though," he said smugly.

"You've already asked me four questions," she responded, giving him a small smile.

She walked into the bathroom and started collecting things like her toothbrush and shampoo, throwing them into her bag.

He followed her, lingering outside of the door. He cocked his head to the side, admiring her as she bent over.

"Why are you in such a rush to get out of here? You've been running around this hotel room for the past hour, as if you had to get back right away."

"I do, I have to get back to-

He interrupted her before she had a chance to finish her sentence. "And don't even try to blame it on the kid, because you're not picking her up until tomorrow, the next day at the latest."

"How did you…"

"I over heard you talking on the phone earlier."

She pointed her eyes at him, knowing he was lying.

"Okay, I may have been eavesdropping. The point is, you're trying to keep your mind occupied so you don't have time to stop and think about what you're actually doing."

She crossed her arms and closed her eyes for a few moments. "Why would I want to do that?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Because you don't _want_ to change your mind, but you're afraid that you will. The only way to avoid that is by not thinking about it."

She was about to open her mouth in protest when she realized that he was right. She was scared of what she was about to do; letting him back into her life indefinitely certainly wasn't going to be easy.

"The good news is that you don't want to change your mind. We're making progress, baby," he said mockingly.

He walked into the bathroom and past where she stood. He set his hand on top of her shoulders, rubbing them slightly as he pushed her out the door.

"House, what are you doing?"

"I'm distracting you from your thoughts. Come one, we're leaving."

He pushed her out of the bathroom door as she shook her head in protest.

"House," she sighed, a small smile forming on her lips as she felt the familiar sense of his touch. " I really do have to pack."

He shrugged as he spoke. "Seems to me like you're already done," he said, surveying the room.

All of her clothes had been neatly folded into her suitcase, and the three pairs of shoes that she had brought with her were lined up at the foot of the bed.

His clothes, however, were strewn across the room; he knew the mess was driving her crazy, but he chose to ignore it.

Cuddy sighed in frustration as he led her out of the hotel room. He grabbed her car key from the edge of the table before closing the door shut, and when she held her hands out to take them he refused.

She shook her head at him. "Oh no, I don't think so," she said, her tone biting and untrustworthy.

"I promise not to drive into any buildings on the way," he joked. She scowled at him in response, her eyes pointing as she tilted her head to the left. "Too soon?" he quipped, placing the keys in his pocket.

"Give me the keys, House," she demanded.

"But _mom,_" he exasperated, "If I let you drive then it won't be a surprise. And what fun would that be?"

He turned his head back towards her as he walked down the hall, a devilish grin on his face.

She shook her head in amusement before she began to walk down the hall, quickening her pace so she could catch up.

"You're not serious, " she said, casting a glance over at him. "House, this is really bad idea. What if someone sees you?

"This was your idea half an hour ago. And so what if they do? The worst thing that could happen would be that they thought they saw a ghost. Happens to me all the time." He gave her a fake smile as he fit the key into the lock.

"That's because you're always high," she said mockingly.

" ZING," he shouted, a frightful look appearing on Cuddy' face as he spoke. She ushered him in the door quickly for fear of being caught.

She paused as she stepped into his apartment. Everything looked exactly the same as it did the last time she was here; furniture still intact, empty glasses that were once filled with scotch scattered across the coffee table.

" Last time I checked, you're not a vampire," said House. A confused look appeared on her face; she had no idea what he was talking about. " You don't need an invitation to come in."

He walked past her and headed towards his bedroom. She followed him, a flood of memories rushing towards her as she took in her surroundings.

He limped over to his dresser and opened the doors, pulling out random items of clothing. She walked over to his closet and reached up to the top shelf where his suitcase was, grabbing it and throwing it on the bed.

" How is it that you can still get in here?" she asked, the curiosity brewing in her mind.

"Wilson paid him off before we left, told him to turn a blind eye for the rest of the year. I guess he figured I would find a reason to come back," he whispered softly. "Plus he knew that all of my porn was stashed here."

She smiled at him, rolling her eyes when he added the bit about porn.

"Wouldn't want you to be without that," she said in a deadpan manner.

Cuddy began to thumb through the shirts hanging in his closet, pausing when she came across the blue dress shirt she had donned on several occasions. She ran her hand up and down the sleeve of the shirt, the soft material bringing a smile to her lips.

He looked over to where she stood and watched her thumb through his clothes, smiling softly as she paused to admire the blue shirt.

She removed the shirt from the hanger and walked it over to the bed, sitting down to fold it. Once the shirt was folded, she placed in the suitcase.

Neither of them said a word; the action itself spoke volumes.

"You know if you want, you can put the shirt on now. Anything I can do to make you feel more at home."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." Cuddy smiled as she placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it apologetically. "Are you just here to get clothes?" she asked

"Well I thought about stuffing my piano in your trunk, but it might a be a tough squeeze."

"I meant are there any other personal items you want?" she said as she stood up, moseying around the room.

"Nope," he said simply.

"Nothing at all?" she asked. "What about the picture of you and Wilson that's buried in the back of your closet?"

" I don't need to look at a picture of Wilson to remember what he looks like."

"No," she began. "But you never know, you might want it one day."

"Actually, I do know. Kind of the reason I said no. But continue to lecture me if it would make you feel better."

He got up from the bed and limped out towards his living room. She followed him as he walked, urging him to talk to her about this.

"When my father died-

"No, don't turn this into something that it's not," said House. "Wilson is gone. Carrying around a stupid photograph isn't going to change that."

"No, it wont." she answered "But I would hate to see you leave all of this behind solely on principle. You've convinced yourself that material things don't matter, that there is no point in holding onto anything with the slightest bit of sentiment because you think it makes you a weaker person," she explained.

She lifted her hand to his face, gently stroking his cheek as she spoke. "But you're not weak, House. You're the strongest person I know. Holding onto a photograph of your best friend doesn't change that." She patted his cheek softly and walked away, knowing that she wouldn't get a response.

He watched her as she walked away from him, taking in the words that she had said. She was right; he would regret leaving everything behind. But he wasn't sure he could handle a physical reminder of his loss.

Dealing with the emotional reminders was hard enough.

He packed some more things into his bag; clothes, cd's, medical journals, things like that.

They were quiet for the next half hour or so, neither one of them wanting to break the comfortable silence they had moved in to.

She had laid out some more clothes that she thought he should take and folded them on the ground next to her. He walked across the room and took a seat next to her, placing the clothes into his bag.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice quiet and timid. He wasn't sure he could handle her rejecting him again, but he knew he had to ask.

There was no going back once they walked out of that door together.

He had a couple more months before his landlord would clear out his apartment for good and find a new tenant. But realistically, he knew there was no coming back after this-unless he wanted to face going back to prison.

She took her hand in his. "We should go before someone sees us," she said, putting his fears to rest.

She stood up first, holding her hand out to help him up. He slung his bag over his shoulder and took her hand, getting up off of the floor.

She squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile, leading him out of the bedroom and towards the door.

He paused, taking a good look at the apartment; this is where their relationship started, and ultimately, where it ended. But for some reason, it felt different with her this time.

He hesitated as she walked out the door. He turned around to go back to his bedroom when she interrupted him. "House, I already put the picture in your bag," she said, knowing exactly what he was going back for.

He smiled in appreciation at her, nodding his thanks. He placed his hand back in hers, their fingers intertwining.

He turned off the light and walked out the door.

* * *

They had been driving for about an hour and a half. It had been pretty silent so far, the only noise coming out of the radio that House occasionally fiddled with. He was getting restless, and she could tell. Long car rides weren't good for his leg, and she didn't know what he was taking for the pain.

That was the one conversation she had been avoiding since she had gotten to Princeton; his vicodin addiction.

She hadn't seen him take any in the past two days, but that didn't mean he was clean. He could have sneaked them behind her back, or when she was asleep. She knew he was an addict- that he was_ always_ going to be an addict.

She could handle the drugs, she really could. It was the effects that the drugs had on him as a person that she couldn't handle. When he was high, he seemed distant and cold, as if the only thing that mattered was finding his nest high.

But he hadn't been that way with her the past few days. Sure, he was reserved at times, but that's just who he is. He doesn't talk about his feelings because he's afraid of how she will react; that she won't accept him for who he is. Wilson had told her that he wasn't completely clean, but he seemed to be trying. They didn't seem to have a hold over him like they had in the past.

But he seemed to be handling Wilson's death better than she ever could have imagined. Years ago she would have found him cooped up in his apartment, bottles strewn everywhere and on the brink of death.

She hadn't once seen him reach for a pill. Maybe he really had changed; maybe he only used the drugs to numb the physical pain.

Maybe he had finally started to allow himself to deal with the emotional pain, instead of trying to avoid feeling anything at all.

Cuddy cleared the thoughts from her mid, turning her attention back to the road. She saw a sign for a coffee shop a couple miles down the road, deciding both of them could use the break.

She looked over at him as she exited the interstate, noticing that he was absentmindedly rubbing his leg. He glanced over at her, giving her a silent thank you. She smiled in understanding, her eyes soft and warm.

They walked into the small coffee shop and placed their orders. The tiny coffee shop was quaint but demanding, filled with laughing couples, travelers stopping for a quick break, and students entranced by their textbooks and laptops.

Cuddy spotted a table outside and nodded in that direction. They sat down and sipped on their chosen drinks, the reality of their situation finally resonating with them both.

She was scared. She didn't know what the next few days would bring, hell, what the nest few hours would bring. He was lost, and she was lost without him.

But she had Rachel to think about; she was _always _going to have Rachel to think about. How was she going to react? She had spoken often of him, asking her where he was, or why he no longer came to play with her. More than likely, she would be thrilled to have her old playmate back, but what if he disappeared again?

Then she looked over at him, her grey eyes meeting his, and somehow, all of he doubts just seemed to disappear.

Given the circumstances, he seemed content.

She took another sip of her coffee, her eyes still glued to his.

"I can practically see the wheels turning inside your head," he said, raising a brow at her.

"I told Rachel she was adopted," she blurted out. Granted, this wasn't what she had been thinking about, but she wasn't ready to breach that exact conversation yet. She figured Rachel was a safe topic.

"Good. You're a moron for not telling her sooner," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she spoke. "She wouldn't have understood even if I had told her earlier."

"And you think she understands now? She's five, "he stated, setting his coffee down on the table.

"I spared her the gory details," she continued her story, ignoring his objections. "She's never going to understand how her mother just left her all alone in that building, or how her grandparents were too afraid to take care of her, but I thought she should know that I chose to have her in my life. Plus, she started Kindergarten this year, and her "Where's my Daddy?" question were bound to be asked sooner or later."

She was fighting back tears at this point, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to break down in front of him.

"You do have this thing for saving people, Cuddy," he said quietly, the words lingering in the air for a few moments after he spoke.

She looked over at him, a sad smile on her face. "You couldn't have saved Wilson, House."

"No," he answered, his eyes gravitating towards the ground. "But I could have saved us."

* * *

That's all for now! Leave me a review on your way out, if you so please. Compliments and critiques are always welcome.

-Alison


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you again to those who continue to read and review, it really means a lot to know that you are all still interested in this! This chapter is where things really start to move along, so I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately.

* * *

The words echoed inside of her for what seemed like hours.

_I could have saved us. I could have saved us. I could have saved us. _

"House," she pleaded, reaching her hand across the table and placing it over his.

"I know that I blamed you earlier, and I kept on blaming you for a while after I left. But I never stopped blaming myself," he continued.

"What happened between us, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't my fault either, it just…happened. And we can sit here and hash out every detail of our relationship, or we can just try to move on. I don't want to go backwards."

She squeezed his hand.

"So you're telling me you want to forget all of the horrible things that we've done to each other. Why? Because it's easier? Or because you feel sorry for me?"

She closed her eyes for a brief moment. "I'm sorry that you lost your friend, I truly am. But this isn't pity, or guilt. This is what you do when the people you care about are in trouble. And whether you want to admit it or not, you're in trouble House."

His shoulders dropped as she spoke. He looked down and saw that her hand was still wrapped around his. He began to trace the lines on her hand lazily.

"I miss him Cuddy," he said softly.

She smiled softly at him, the look comforting and reassuring. "I know, " she replied. "And that feeling probably won't ever go away. But you'll learn to cope with it, and one day you'll wake up and it just won't hurt as much."

He didn't respond. They sat there for a few more minutes, finishing up their coffee. They both knew that the conversation was over, and neither one of them felt like talking much anyways.

He was just glad to know that she was sitting there across from him.

Cuddy pulled her cell phone from her purse, checking the time and searching through her messages.

House got up from the table, his leg feeling much better after being able to move it around a bit.

Cuddy dropped her phone back into her purse and slung it over her shoulder as they made their way back to the car. She lazily threw her hair back into a low ponytail, House watching as her shirt inched up her stomach when she moved her arms up.

"You know," she began as she slid into the driver's side of the car. "I kind of missed you blatantly objectifying my body like that."

"Anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable. If you want, you can take off your shirt for the rest of the way."

She pointed her eyes at him, ignoring his request. "We should be there in about an hour or so."

"Does that mean you'll take your shirt off when we get back to your house?" he asked innocently.

"Don't press your luck, House. You're lucky I'm even letting you in the door."

He was silent for a moment, knowing she was right. "You always were a rule breaker when it came to me."

"It must be your sense of charm, " she said sarcastically. He was right though; she practically let him get away with murder. If he was involved, it was like the rulebook no longer mattered.

Sometimes she needed that. Sometimes she needed to be careless.

House leaned his head against the side of the window and stretched his legs out from beneath him. "If I go to sleep I'll get to see your shirt off must faster," he said as he closed his eyes.

She smirked at him, shaking her head before turning her focus back to the road.

A few minutes later she heard the muffled noise of his soft snores filling the inside of the car. She turned her head towards him and saw that he had a small smile plastered on his face. He looked peaceful and content. She desperately wanted to reach across him and run her fingers along the lines of his arm, something she used to do when he was sleeping next to her.

Instead, she occupied her hands by turning the radio off so the music wouldn't wake him.

* * *

About and hour and a half later, they reached her home in Georgetown. Cuddy turned the car off, hoping the noise would wake him up so she didn't have to.

He stirred a bit in his seat, but wasn't showing any signs of waking up. She sighed, finally reaching over and nudging him in the shoulder.

"House, we're here," she said, her voice loud and firm.

He slowly opened his eyes, sitting up as he woke.

"You're shirt is still on," he said, his voice groggy as he spoke.

"Well we're not inside yet, are we?" she fired back.

That was enough to get him up and moving. He opened the car door and headed towards the trunk.

He grabbed his bag, flinging it over his shoulder as he placed hers gently on the ground beneath him.

She bent down to grab her bag. He leaned forward a bit, peering down her shirt as she moved. She rolled her eyes at him as she looked up.

"What?" he asked innocently. "The girls and I are just getting reacquainted. They've missed my baby blues staring them down every chance I get."

She rolled her eyes once more as she wrapped her fingers around her bag, making her way to her front step.

Her house was hidden behind a row of colorful bushes and tress, a small cobblestone pathway lining the freshly mowed grass. The neighborhood was a bit busier than her old one, but it was close to work and the backyard was a decent size.

She opened the door slowly, taking a deep breath before walking in. All of sudden her nerves were firing all through her body.

House tentatively placed a hand on her back, soothing her as he guided her indoors.

A small smile escaped her lips as she felt his touch.

She haphazardly threw her keys on the small table that was situated by the door, knowing she would need them to go get Rachel in the morning.

"Nice digs," he said, trying to bring some comfort to the situation.

"It's different, but we like it here," she replied. "So, um the kitchen is back through there, living room is to your right."

She started walking down the hall and made a left, leading them to a bedroom towards the back of the house. "This is the guest room, you can sleep in here if you want. The bathroom is right through that door, and it also connects to the hallway which will lead you back to the kitchen."

He nodded at her as she set his bag on the bed and laid his cane against the frame of the bed.

Cuddy twiddled her thumbs nervously as she glanced down at her watch. It was only seven at night, and he had slept for most of the way home; he couldn't possibly be tired.

He walked over towards her, distracting her from her thoughts. "What do you have to eat around here, woman?"

"Nothing, probably. I'll order in." She smiled at him as she walked out the door, leaving him alone to unpack.

Cuddy sifted through the takeout menus, trying to decide on a place they would both enjoy.

"How about Chinese?" she yelled from the kitchen, her voice projecting through the whole house.

"Great," he responded. "As long as it's _actual _Chinese and doesn't involve the words "meat substitute".

Cuddy smirked as she picked up the telephone and placed the order. She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and took a sip from it.

She pulled her phone from her purse and sorted through the hundreds of emails she had gotten in the last three days. She's almost forgotten that she had to go back to work tomorrow afternoon. In the morning she had to drive up to her sister's to get Rachel, and she would be slammed with work the next day if she didn't at least make an appearance.

She took another sip of her water and sunk into the chair at the kitchen table.

She looked up as House limped into the kitchen. "You're done already?" she asked, surprised that he had finished unpacking that quickly.

"That's the thing about dead guys, Cuddy. They don't really have that much stuff."

He placed a deck of cards on the table as he sat down, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Wanna play?" he asked with a grin across his face.

Cuddy sat her water bottle on the table and took the deck of cards in her hand and began shuffling them. She never could resist playing games with House.

"Gin?" she asked as she lazily tossed him his cards.

He nodded at her as he gathered his cards in his hands. "I don't know why you enjoy playing with me so much. We both know I'm going to win," he boasted.

"Why's that?" Cuddy asked flatly as she drew a card from the deck.

"Because," he said as he placed a set of three cards on the table. "You have a tell, and I'm the only one who knows about it."

"You say that every time we play cards and it's never true." She took a sip of her water as she drew another card.

"Actually it's always true. That's the definition of having a tell."

She smiled as she set down all four kings onto the table. "Then how come I'm kicking your ass?"

"The game's not over yet," he fired back.

"It's never over with you," she muttered, taking another sip of her water.

"What was that?" he asked. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you over me winning the game." He laid down the remainder of his cards on the table; he'd been holding on to all four aces.

Cuddy sighed in frustration. "Why didn't you just lay those down as soon as you had them?"

"Wanted to give you a false sense of security," he said mockingly. "You should have known I was bluffing about me bluffing."

"Please, the only predictable thing about you is that you are actually unpredictable."

He smiled at her frustration; she really hated to lose.

"Ready for another round?" he asked, his words laced with double and triple meanings.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth slightly and letting a smile escape from her lips. She was about to answer when the doorbell rang throughout the house.

"Saved by the bell," she whispered with a seductive tone as she bent down, laying her cards down on the table.

House's eyebrows rose ever so slightly as her shirt dipped down in front of him, exposing herself to him. He blinked dramatically at her and she shook her head at him as she turned around and walked towards the door.

He quickly got up form the chair and limped towards the door to follow her. He got there as she was paying the delivery boy.

House took the bags from her arms as she closed the door. He walked towards the living room and plopped down on the sofa, making himself comfortable. He set the bags on the coffee table in front of him as he leaned back into the couch.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked

"The Real Housewives of New Jersey is on," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Cuddy scoffed at him. "I'm not watching that," she responded as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Come on, we used to watch it together all the time," he pleaded as he took the containers out of the bag.

He inspected each box, laying hers to his left while he placed his right in front of him.

"Only if you count me falling asleep on your shoulder as _watching _something," she muttered as she made her way over to the couch and sat down next to him.

She tucked her feet underneath her and let her arm fall across her knees as she grabbed one of the containers on the table. He handed her a pair of chopsticks from the bag, which she used to stir around her food.

Even after all these years, she was amazed at just how in sync they were at times.

She rolled her eyes and handed him the remote. "Here," she said. "It's channel thirty-six."

He smirked triumphantly at her. "I knew you liked it."

"I like all of the different cooking shows," she fired back defensively.

House turned on the television and smiled as he heard the words "Previously on the Real Housewives of New Jersey" float through the air.

Cuddy sunk back into the cushions after placing her container back on the small table in front of her. She shifted a bit, casually glancing over at House as she tried to make herself more comfortable.

He looked over at her and she quickly looked away, embarrassed that she had been caught. She turned her attention back to the television screen.

"How big do you think Theresa's hair is?" she asked, trying to turn his attention from what she had just been doing.

"Almost as big as your ass," he responded. "Which, might I add, somehow looks even bigger."

"I hear NASA'a planning a study," she quipped, playing along with him.

"I've always wanted to be an astronaut. Now I have a good reason."

He devoured an egg roll as he spoke, dramatically winking at her when he was finished.

She let out a small laugh. "Just watch the show, House."

They fell into a comfortable silence a few moments later. She hated how much she missed this, how much she missed just being around him. She desperately wanted to bury her face in his chest and drape her arm around his middle, inhaling his scent as she dozed off.

She wasn't sure what was stopping her; after all, they'd come this far. But they were in a good place right now, and she didn't want to chance ruining it all. She knew that eventually the novelty would wear off, and they would both start to wonder what the hell all of this meant, but right now, in this specific moment, all she wanted to do was feel his presence around her.

"You know when we were first starting out on our trip, neither of us had any idea where we were going, or where we were headed." he began softly. She perked her ears up and lifted her head from the throw pillow when she realized he was talking about Wilson.

"I tried to get him to take me to see these women, but he didn't go for it. He claimed it was the cancer, but I think it was just nerves," he said jokingly. "He prefers the Orange County ones anyway, they have that whole blonde thing going on."

Cuddy smiled sadly at him as he spoke. She placed a loving hand on his shoulder, rubbing it up and down to comfort him. She knew how hard it was for him to open up to people.

"I, on the other hand, prefer a good brunette," he smiled over at her. "Especially ones with a little junk in the trunk, if you know what I mean."

"You did the right thing, House," she said softly. "In your own, weird, twisted way, it was the right thing to do."

He looked over at her, his eyes widening as she continued to speak.

"You gave up who you are to be there for Wilson when he needed you most. What you did was highly illegal, and will eventually come back and bite you in the ass, but it was… selfless. And Wilson was proud of you. I'm proud of you."

She shrugged her shoulders as tears started to form in her eyes. She moved her hand form his shoulder to his face, stroking his stubble-framed face like she had done so many times before.

"I'm just sorry that it took Wilson dying for you to realize that you actually are capable of giving yourself to someone else. You're not as misanthropic as you make yourself out to be. "

He placed his hand on her knee, gently drawing circles on her curled up leg. She turned to face him, wiping a tear from her eyes before resting her arm on the couch behind him.

He didn't say anything back to her. Instead, he turned his attention back to the television.

He was about to remove his arm from her leg, but at the last minute decided against it. He continued to trace the lines on her knee and smiled as she finally surrendered to her urges and sunk into him.

She rested her head in the crook of his neck and placed her hand on his chest, mimicking his actions.

He smiled down at her when he noticed that Top Chef was coming on next.

* * *

The room was silent, save her muffled snores that were filling the air. He had muted the television so not to wake her, not that he was really watching anyway.

She had fallen asleep about five minutes after she had settled into him, and he had no intention of letting her go. He gently stroked her hair with his free hand; the other was still sprawled out across her leg.

As he looked down on her a sense of guilt washed over him. He wasn't supposed to feel happy right now. Or ever again, even.

He had just lost his best friend, the only person who had stuck with him until the very end. House sighed inwardly at the irony of it all; even in death Wilson was looking out for his well being.

Granted, he didn't exactly know where all of this was going. She could wake up tomorrow morning and decide that once again, she was making a horrible mistake by opening herself up to him.

He felt her stir beneath him, interrupting his thoughts. She slowly opened her eyes and sheepishly smiled up at him. She hadn't meant to fall asleep entangled in his arms-not that either one of them were complaining.

"Morning Sunshine," he said cheerily.

A confused look swept across her face as she frantically began to untangle herself from his solid grasp. She looked around and sighed in relief when she noticed it was still dark out.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily. His hand was still intertwined with her brown locks and she relaxed back into the couch.

"Based on the number of Top Chef episodes I've sat through, I'd say it's almost one. It's unfortunate that you fell asleep when you did; this is captivating stuff. Karen's knives went missing and she blamed it on Steve. Of course, you and I both know that Steve would never do that to Karen because he's hopelessly in love with her. But Karen's too stupid to realize that, considering she can't even remember where she put her knives."

She let out a small smile at his antics. "Well, " she began. "As fascinating as all that is, I should head up to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow to go get Rachel."

"Right, " he said as he nodded in her direction. She lifted herself up from the couch and began to walk towards the direction of her bedroom.

She paused before turning her head towards him. "Fill me in on what happens with Karen and Steve in the morning?" she asked innocently.

He smirked at her before he spoke. "Absolutely."

Cuddy smiled widely at him. "Goodnight House," she said as she continued walking down the hall.

"Night Cuddy," he responded softly. He knew she wouldn't hear him, but saying the words brought some comfort to him.

She sauntered down the hall, her heart quivering with each step and a smile forming on her face. She was mesmerized by the effect that he had on her. She didn't understand how she could actively despise someone so much, and yet never want them to leave your side.

She changed out of her jeans and into her pajamas and settled into bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of her head and failing miserably.

She thought back to the phone call she had gotten from Wilson weeks ago.

"_He's going to need you Lisa. When I'm gone, he's…he's going to need someone to be there from him when he breaks down. It's happening already and there isn't anything I can do to help him."_

"_James…I don't know if I can do this. Bad things happen when he and I are overcome with grief."_

"_Bad things are already happening, Lisa. I know you're angry with him, and you have every right to be, but I also know that you still love him. And he needs to be around people who love him. I can't…I can't leave here knowing that he's going to destroy his life the minute I'm gone. I can't save my own life, but you might be able to save his. Please."_

_Tears had begun to stream down her face as he spoke. _

"_You've been a good friend to me all these years. Just promise me you're going to keep being a good friend to me when I'm gone."_

"_I'm so sorry this is happening to you."_

"_Yeah, me too. Just don't be too afraid to fall back in love with him, okay? After everything he's done for me, he deserves to be happy. You deserve it too."_

"_Is there anything I can do for you? Visit you, or…I don't know, anything?"_

"_You don't want to see me like this, Lisa. Just promise me you will be there for him when it's over."_

_She paused, choking back the tears that were threatening to escape into uncontrollable sobs. "I promise."_

_He smiled on the other side of the phone. "Thank you. Goodbye, Cuddy."_

"_Goodbye Wilson." _

_She waited a full ten minutes before she put the receiver down. She had cried herself to sleep that night. _

Cuddy glanced at the clock; it was almost two in the morning. She heard the padding of light footsteps coming down the hall; House must have decided to check in as well.

Her breath hitched as she heard the creaking of her door opening slightly. She could make out House's silhouette in the dark, and immediately shut her eyes, feigning sleep.

He slowly walked over to the other side of the bed and crept in next to her, just like he had done at the hotel the other night.

Her back was turned to him, and as he settled himself underneath the covers he slung his right hand across the top of her pillow, his fingers drawing circles on her shoulder.

She smiled as he rested his other arm across her middle, cradling her body against his.

"I just thought you should know that Karen and Steve made it to the final two," he whispered in her ear. "We find out who wins next episode. My money's on Karen, Steve is going to let her win on principle alone."

Feeling his breath so close to her sent shivers down her spine. She took a deep breath and turned to face him.

She looked him square in the eyes and lifted her hand to the nape of his neck, her fingers caressing the stray hairs.

She pulled him towards her and he lifted himself up, his hand moving from her stomach to her side. He slid his hand up and down the side of her loosely fitting tank top.

She pressed her lips to his, his mouth warm and inviting as their tongues meshed together. He deepened their kiss as her leg moved up and down in tandem with his wandering hand. They pulled apart slowly, and he looked her up and down, admiring her as he spoke.

"Are you going to regret this in the morning?" he murmured. He buried his face in the side of her neck as he placed light kisses on her smooth skin.

She didn't respond right away, unable to form proper thoughts as his lips touched her skin. She rubbed her hand up and down his back, desperate to feel him beneath her.

"I don't know, maybe." She gripped the back of his head, her fingers running through his hair.

He looked down on her, a look of longing and adoration as his eyes met hers.

"Well do you want me to stop?"

She gently stroked the side of his face before shaking her head, silently pleading with him to keep going.

He leaned over her tentatively. She smiled up softly at him, reassuring him with her touch.

He pressed his lips to hers once more, her back arching and her breath hitching as she parted her lips slightly.

A loud moan escaped her as her mouth roamed in his. She wasn't sure what they were doing, or how they would feel in the morning, but in that moment, she felt like they were the only two people in the world.

And she had missed that feeling more than anything.

* * *

A/N: Now you all have something to look forward to (I told you the sex was coming eventually!) Leave a review on your way out, if you wish. Compliments and critiques always welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Here it is! I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

It was reckless.

A moan escaped her mouth as his lips attacked hers.

Irresponsible.

Her hands ran across his chest, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Careless.

He pulled away from her, his eyes locking with hers; he was mesmerized by how beautiful she was.

She smiled up sheepishly at him as his hand roamed up and down her body. He slipped his hand underneath her tank top and slowly inched it up, caressing every inch of skin he could get his hands on.

Weak.

This hadn't been her intention earlier, but god, she had missed the feeling of his hands all over her. She knew that she should tell him to stop- that this would only further complicate their relationship.

But then he began to caress the side of her breast with his thumb, and she lost all inhibition. She arched her back as he teased her, and he caught her lips in his, their kiss hungry and more passionate than the ones that preceded them.

"God, I missed this," she murmured. She immersed herself in his touch, watching him as his hands stroked every inch of her body. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, nipping his skin ever so slightly.

"Haven't been receiving the attention you deserve lately, have you?" He breathed huskily into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"Shut up and fuck me, House." She gracefully moved on top of him, her legs straddling his sides as his hands settled on her hips.

He smirked up at her. He sat up a bit, taking the material of her tank top in his hands. He lifted the shirt off of her, leaving her upper body completely exposed.

She pushed him down gently and he snaked his arm around her back as he fell back into the bed. She smiled wickedly at him as she pressed her groin to his, taunting him as she moved.

She could feel him growing harder with every touch.

His hand slithered up and down her back, and he eventually made his way to her ass, cupping it gently into his hands.

She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, working her away across his body.

He slid off her shorts, his thumb lightly playing with the lace material of the thong that hid underneath. He diverted his attention to her breasts as she gradually collapsed on top of him.

His hands traced lines on her back as he slid his tongue across her nipple, her hair cascading onto his face as he pleasured her.

She arched her back and let her head fall as her hands scraped across his chest. She suddenly couldn't remember any of the reasons why they _shouldn't _be doing this.

Her hands migrated toward his pants as she realized that he was still wearing them. She tugged at the waistband of his cotton pajamas, pushing them down as quickly as she could.

He shimmied out of them, helping her get them off faster. His hands moved from her back to the nape of her neck, the other one entangled in her hair.

He pulled her towards him and his lips met hers. She guided his hand to her hip as they kissed, fumbling with the material of her underwear, both desperate to remove it.

Once they had been removed, House cradled her as he flipped her beneath him, pinning her against his arms.

Her toes curled beneath him as his hand ran up and down her leg. He let his fingers linger on her inner thigh for just a few moments, massaging the area lightly.

She shot him a devilish grin; after all, two could play at this game. She slowly raised her other leg to his hip, pushing down his boxers with her toes. She reached her hand down to assist herself, her fingers getting dangerously close to his cock.

He took a deep breath as she moved underneath him. He was amazed at her flexibility. "Remind me to thank your yoga instructor," he said in a breathy voice, before catching her lips in a kiss.

She moaned his name as she leaned into the kiss. "God, House." She wrapped her hands around him as they found they their way to the back of his neck, tugging on his hair as he shoved his tongue inside of her mouth.

His hand inched up her thigh slowly as he pulled away from her, both in desperate need of air.

She pushed his head down toward her chest and he enveloped one of her breasts in his mouth; his teeth were grating against her skin and she let out a cry. He grunted in response and her breath hitched as his hands crept closer and closer towards her.

He slowly kissed up her chest, paying attention to her neck and chin, and finally placing his lips to hers once more.

The kiss was surprisingly soft and slow, and she gently ran her hand up and down his shoulder as their lips crashed together.

Her nails pierced his skin as she felt the shocking sensation of his fingers plunging inside of her. He removed his lips from hers, a wicked grin on his face.

She bit her lip and swallowed hard, mustering up all the strength she had not to cry out in pleasured agony.

His movements were slow at first, and her other hand tugged at his hair as his fingers moved within her. Suddenly his pace quickened and he thrust one more finger inside of her as his thumb rubbed up against the top of her clit.

She threw her head back as a moan escaped her lips. His head fell to the crook of her shoulder and he nibbled at her neck, paying special attention to the sensitive spot right below her ear.

She shivered as he kissed her skin, his fingers still plunging in and out of her. He had slowed down at this point, and was slowly removing himself from her.

He teasingly applied pressure with the palm of his hand, clearly not ready to let go of her just yet.

She arched her back and her hips met his in one swooping motion. He moved his hand up towards her hips and she curled her legs around his.

Her teeth scraped across his chest as he hovered over her, her hands sliding up and down his back.

He entered her slowly, and she gasped as she felt him inside of her. She buried her head in his neck as he gripped her hand tightly. Their fingers intertwined as he thrust inside of her.

Her head lurched back into the pillow and her hips grinded against his.

He gasped, his breathing becoming increasingly rapid as he went deeper within her. She was moaning into his ear, and his muscles began to contract at the very mention of what this was doing to her.

"God, _yes,_" escaped from her lips as she breathed heavily into his chest.

He melted at the sound of her voice, his head spinning as she attacked his lips with hers.

She hooked her ankle underneath his and quickly spun on top of him, quickening their pace. She rocked on top of him, his hands guiding her hips as she moved.

She cried out his name as she came undone, her hands gripping the skin on his chest.

Sweat was dripping from the both of their brows, and he sat up, thrusting into her even further. Her body shook slightly at his touch, her muscles contracting in every which way.

She pressed her lips to his once more, sending the both of them over the edge.

He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes locking as their moans of pleasure mixed together and filled the air.

He fell backwards, relaxing his head into the mattress that lied beneath them. She collapsed on top of him, her breaths becoming more regular with every passing moment.

She rested her head against his chest, their legs still intertwined beneath them. He pressed a kiss to the side of her temple and ran his fingers through her hair.

She smiled into his chest as her breathing returned to normal.

"Well," he began as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "At least we know that still works."

She lifted her head, her chin resting on his chest as a small laugh escaped from her lips.

She slowly rolled off of him, settling herself into his side as he possessively draped an arm across her body.

"I never had any doubts about it _working,_" she whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

He grinned triumphantly and tightened the grip around her.

She had a huge smile plastered to his face; one he could only assume was due to what had just occurred between them.

He just hoped it was still there in the morning.

* * *

Cuddy fought back a yawn as she made the forty-five minute drive to her sister's house. She had woken that morning entangled in the arms of Gregory House, her hair a complete mess, and clothes strewn across the floor.

But, unlike most mornings, she had a smile on her face.

She reached into the dashboard, fumbling around for her sunglasses. She slid them on and relaxed her eyes, the glaring sun no longer blinding her vision.

She'd been quiet when she woke, careful not to disturb him. She threw on the closest pair of jeans she could find and then wrapped a long cardigan around the tank top she'd been wearing yesterday.

She could almost smell his natural musk on the shirt. She'd convinced herself that that wasn't the reason she put it back on earlier; it was simply what was most convenient.

If at all possible, the sex had been even better than she remembered. Maybe it was because she actually hadn't had sex for two years, maybe it was because they _always _had earth-shattering sex, or maybe, just _maybe _it was because she was still in love with him.

She didn't know which maybe it was, and she wasn't going to waste time figuring it out; besides, she wasn't sure she even wanted to know.

Things were even more complicated now than they were when she picked him up in that bar not three days ago. God, that had felt like a lifetime ago.

She just couldn't believe she was back in this place again. When she had left Princeton, she had assumed her relationship with House was done for good. She would miss him and hope that the pain of losing him would eventually subside, but she knew that if she made a clean break from him, she might actually be able to get over him.

Then Wilson got cancer.

And all of the things she had been telling herself suddenly hadn't mattered anymore. He was alone and so was she, and they just needed someone to numb the pain; someone to make them feel alive again.

That's what he did for her; he made her feel alive again.

But he was a drug addict. And she had a five-year-old daughter who deserved to have some stability in her life.

That same five-year-old was also constantly badgering her on whether or not House was ever going to come play again.

She shook her head as she pulled into the driveway of her sister's house, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts.

She checked her reflection in her mirror and unsuccessfully attempted to tame the mess that her hair had become. She pushed the sunglasses on top of her head, hoping they would suppress some of the curls.

The last thing she needed was the third degree from Julia as to why she'd looked like she'd spent the entire night having sex.

Especially considering that's exactly what she'd been doing.

Julia must have seen her pull into the driveway, because as soon as she got out of the car she heard the delightful shrieks of her daughter calling her name.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Rachel raced towards her with her arms spread wide, ready to embrace her as soon as her tiny legs managed to get to where her mother stood.

Cuddy bent down and caught her daughter in her arms, a huge smile on her face as she hugged the little girl. "I missed you, sweetie." Cuddy pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked the back of her hair.

Rachel giggled as Cuddy stood up, lifting her up into her arms. "You are just getting so big, I don't think I'm going to be able to carry you ever again."

"_Never?" _asked Rachel, clearly disturbed by this sudden turn of events. She placed her tiny hands on Cuddy's cheeks, her eyes wide and serious as she spoke. "What if I promise to stop growing?"

Cuddy laughed at her daughter's ability to find a creative solution to all of her problems. She placed the little girl back down on the ground and took her hand as she walked up to greet Julia.

"Hey, " she said tiredly. " Thanks again for watching her, I hope she wasn't too much trouble."

"Of course, you know I'm here for you any time you need," answered Julia. "How are you doing? I know he was one of your best friends."

Cuddy closed her eyes, She had been so worried about how House was dealing with everything that she had temporarily forgotten to deal with her own emotions.

"It's just been a hard couple days. I'm glad to be back," she relented, giving her sister a small smile. She looked down at Rachel who was swaying back and forth, her fingers still wrapped around her own.

"All of her stuff is packed and ready to go, and she ate breakfast about an hour ago. But you know you're welcome to hang out here for a little longer if you'd like."

Cuddy sighed. Ever since she had moved out of Princeton her sister had been walking on eggshells around her. She appreciated the sentiment, but frankly, it was getting old.

"I'm fine, really. Just tired." She walked into the living room and picked up Rachel's belongings. "Rachel, are you ready to go home?"

"Yes!" Rachel said excitedly. She dropped Cuddy's hand and scurried over to where Julia stood, wrapping her hands around Julia's leg. "Thank you for taking care of me and letting me play with Jackson's toy dinosaurs."

Jackson was Rachel's seven-year-old cousin who hadn't quite grasped the concept of "sharing" yet.

Julia smiled down at her. "You're welcome sweetie. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Rachel nodded at her giving her leg one last squeeze before letting go.

Cuddy walked over to Julia and embraced her in a hug.

"Call me later?" Julia asked, a concerned look on her face.

Cuddy gave her a small smile and nodded at her as she took Rachel's hand and headed for the door.

"Bye Aunt Julia I love you!" exclaimed Rachel as they walked out the door.

Cuddy turned around and gave her a small wave. "I'll talk to you later, thanks again."

Rachel ran towards the car as they walked, her backpack swinging in every direction.

"Sweetie, what did Aunt Julia feed you for breakfast?" asked Cuddy. Her daughter was unusually hyper for 7:45 in the morning.

"FROOT LOOPS!" Rachel opened the door to the car and slung her backpack across the back seat. "They were delicious Mommy."

Cuddy sighed. "Oh, I'm sure they were. Come on, you can sit in the front seat today. Mommy has to talk to you about something."

Rachel grinned at her as she hopped in the front seat. Cuddy got her buckled in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She walked around to the other side of the car and slid in, shutting the door quietly.

"Mommy, where did you go?"

Cuddy bit her lip and looked over at Rachel. "Well, you remember when your goldfish died?"

Rachel nodded and hung her head. She had been devastated when Pete The Goldfish had died.

"And we talked about how he was going to live forever in a better place, with all the other fish? Well, the same thing happened to an old friend of mine, so I went to his funeral."

"Do you think your friend knows Pete? I would hate for Pete to be all alone."

Cuddy smiled softly, fighting back tears. "Oh yes, everybody knows everyone there."

Rachel leaned back in her seat; she was satisfied with the answer she had been given.

Cuddy turned on the car and backed out of the driveway slowly.

They drove for about 10 minutes when Cuddy decided that it would be a good time to tell Rachel about their newest houseguest. She had been quiet, which was unusual for her.

"Sweetie, when we get home, someone new is going to be there."

"Is it Grandma?" interrupted Rachel.

"No, thank god," she muttered as she shook her head. " You remember Mommy's friend House, right?"

She knew that Rachel remembered him, considering she asked about him every chance she got, but she was having trouble figuring out how to approach the subject.

Rachel quickly sat up at the mention of his name, nodding her head in excitement.

"Well his best friend is the one that…died, and House was feeling very sad about that, and I told him how much you missed him, so he came to visit us for a while."

"Because being around us makes him feel happy?" Rachel's eyes seemed to get even wider as she grinned at her mother.

Cuddy smiled at her daughter's words. "In a way, yes."

"Do you think he kept the letter I wrote him when his leg was hurting? I hope he did."

"It was a very nice letter," Cuddy replied, not wanting to get her daughter's hopes up. She wasn't even sure if he read it in the first place. "Sit still sweetie."

Rachel sat back in the seat and laid her head against the side of the window. She was silent for a few minutes as Cuddy fiddled with the radio, trying to remember the station that played all of those silly Disney songs that Rachel loved so much.

"Mommy?" Rachel didn't look over at her as she spoke, opting to stare out the window instead.

"Yes?" asked Cuddy softly

Rachel tilted her head to the left. "I'm glad House finally came to visit us."

* * *

She had been unusually quiet that morning. He assumed it was because she didn't want to wake him. What he didn't know was if she didn't want to wake him because she wanted to avoid him at all costs, or if it was because she actually did care about him.

In reality, it was probably a mix of both.

His eyes had fluttered as she slithered out of his arms, but he didn't dare move. He knew she would want to talk if he was awake, and he just wasn't in the mood to dissect everything yet.

There was a chance—a big one in fact, that she was going to regret what happened between them the night before, and that just wasn't something he wanted to deal with at 6:30 in the morning.

He'd spent the morning milling around her house. He'd showered and gotten dressed after he heard her shut the door on her way out around seven; he knew she was going to go get Rachel, and he didn't want to be in bed when they got back.

He wandered into her kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He glanced at the clock, noticing that it was almost 8. She should be back soon, rugrat in tow.

He sat down at the table, quietly munching on whatever bland, albeit very healthy, cereal Cuddy kept in the house.

He picked up his bowl and ate as he walked. He moseyed on in to the living room.

There were medical journals mixed in with coloring books and copies of Jane Austen novels lining the shelves of the wall. He thumbed over the books and magazines and carefully selected a medical journal to pass the time with.

He sank into the couch and lifted his leg to rest on the coffee table in front of him. He rubbed his leg as he read. Last night's activity had really taken a toll on his leg.

He'd gotten through about three articles when he heard excited footsteps approaching the door.

"Mommy, hurry up please!" He heard Rachel exclaim through the door. He could hear Cuddy fiddling with the lock on the door. She was clearly nervous.

Cuddy opened the door slowly and Rachel bolted through, running towards him with an excited look on her face.

She stopped in front of him and pressed her tiny little hands on to his good leg. She leaned forward and squinted her eyes at him.

Cuddy watched from the door, not daring to move.

"You're taller," he said.

"You have more wrinkely lines on your face." She poked his face with her finger and he quickly jerked away.

"The Captain has me pickin' up yer slack since ya abandoned ship," he said in his best pirate voice.

Rachel giggled as he spoke and the she threw her arms around his neck. House was taken aback by the embrace; he looked over at Cuddy, who was smiling apologetically at him.

"Sweetie, why don't you go put your things in your room, I'll be there in a minute to help you."

Rachel nodded into House's shoulder and reluctantly let go of him.

She scurried out of the room, turning around before she made it back to her room. "I'm happy you came to visit me, you Bloody Scallywag."

Cuddy smiled as she made her way over to the couch, taking a seat next to House.

"That is one self-absorbed kid you got there. She thinks I came here to visit _her._"

"House," said Cuddy sternly. "We need to talk."

"Oh good, I was hoping you'd say that. I didn't want to bring it up because I know how sensitive you are about it, but your ass-

"House, I'm serious. We need to talk about what happened between us last night," Cuddy's voice began to drop off; this wasn't a conversation she wanted her five year old to hear. "I have to get ready for work and my nanny will be here in an hour, but I'm free around one if you want to drop by the hospital."

"To discuss the fact that you and I had sex?"

"Yes," she stated. "I also thought we could have lunch."

He paused before he answered, furrowing his brow as if he were contemplating something; she knew he wouldn't refuse a free lunch-he was just being difficult.

"Okay," he finally relented. "Is lunch the only thing I'll be eating, or should I mentally prepare myself for a different type of menu?"

She glared at him, her eyes narrowing as she spoke. "I'll see you at one."

She quickly got up form the couch and walked into her room, ignoring him as he called after her. "That still doesn't answer my question!"

"One o'clock!" she yelled from her bedroom. "Don't be late, I don't have time for your tardiness today."

He smirked as he leaned back in the couch. She was ignoring his sexual advances—maybe they were making progress.

* * *

Cuddy had taken about half an hour to shower and get dressed, and then proceeded to leave Rachel and House alone. The nanny was coming in about half an hour to take Rachel to the National Zoo—she'd developed an attachment to the Red Pandas and insisted upon visiting them every chance she got.

Cuddy had kissed Rachel on the head before leaving, telling her to be good for House until Amelia got there. Amelia was a second year graduate student at Georgetown University and studying to become a Child Development Psychologist; she came highly recommended by one of Cuddy's colleagues who had used her in the past.

House wandered into Rachel's room after Cuddy had left. He peered his head in the door and she looked up from her coloring book, a wide smile one her face.

"Hi," she said, turning her attention back to her drawing. She motioned for him to come inside, her tiny hands waving him in.

She was sitting at a small table in the middle of her neatly organized room, coloring books and crayons were sprawled across the surface, and she seemed to be fully immersed in whatever it was that she was doing.

"I'm coloring a picture for Fred," she said as he walked in the door. "Do you want to make him one too?"

"Is Fred your imaginary friend?"

"No," she said firmly.

He nodded his head in understanding. "You're right, he's totally real," he said mockingly.

Rachel shook her head and giggled. "Fred is the Red Panda at the zoo and I'm going to visit him later with Amelia. She has very pretty hair jut like Mommy does."

"The Panda or your overly qualified and overly paid babysitter?"

Rachel tilted her head in confusion and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what that means. But Amelia has very long and yellow flowy hair, just like Rapunzel!"

Rachel got up from her table and wandered over to the other side of her room. She dragged a beanbag chair to where House was standing. She handed him a coloring book and motioned for him to sit down.

"This is usually where Mommy sits but you can sit here right now. Fred likes pictures of other animals. Especially elephants. "

He compliantly took the coloring book and sat down, stretching his leg out on the floor.

"Somebody remembered to put on their _bossypants _this morning. Throw me some crayons, will you." He sighed as he opened the coloring book. He would deny any of this if asked. "And how do you know what Fred likes? Better yet, how do you know Fred is his actual name?"

She turned the page for him until she found a suitable picture of an elephant. She was busy coloring a lion, so in her eyes, it seemed fitting. She handed him the appropriate colors before returning back to her table.

"I dunno, he just looks like a Fred. And he likes pictures of other animals because he lives alone, so he doesn't get to play with them like he would in the wild. The pictures make him miss his friends less."

"You do know that " The Lion King" isn't a proper representation of wildlife, correct? And considering the fact that Red Pandas originate from the Himalayas, your buddy Fred probably didn't know any lions."

"You don't know that. You're the one who said Fred couldn't talk."

House was about to protest when he realized that for a five year old, that was a pretty advanced comeback.

They colored until Amelia got there, and Rachel turned out to be right; she _did _have hair that envied Rapunzel.

* * *

Rachel's eyes widened as Amelia walked into the door, and ran over to her, greeting her in the same way she had greeted House an hour earlier. House and Amelia had exchanged somewhat awkward greetings, and after reassuring Rachel several times that he would be okay at the House by himself, they were out the door.

For a five year old, she was very concerned with his well-being. He supposed that was a good sign.

He spotted a note on the kitchen table and limped over to get a better look. There was a ten-dollar bill taped to the front of the note. He moved the money and smiled; he had even missed her loopy handwriting.

_House, _

_Please note that this isn't me paying for the sex we had last night. I realize you're not a hooker. Use this to take a cab to GW Hospital; it's too far for you to walk. See you at one._

_-Cuddy_

He'd spent several minutes reading and re-reading the note, trying to decipher her tone, or any hidden meanings within her words. To anyone else, it might have seemed short, but he could practically sense her attitude in the room whilst he read-and that was a good thing.

She'd always had a sarcastic bite to her, and the fact that she wasn't being overly polite to him was comforting.

After milling around her house for the next hour, he ventured outside and traipsed to the busier streets of Georgetown. Her house was situated behind the main drag of the mostly residential area, and you could see the pristine chapel of the famous University that lied behind the trees.

It wasn't a far walk to the streets filled with specialty boutiques and overpriced delicacies, but the narrow cobblestone walkways did a number on his leg.

He reached inside of his pocket and gripped the bottle of vicodin that he kept on him at all times. He paused for a moment and then reluctantly loosened his grip. He rubbed his leg instead, hoping that would sustain him until he was able to sit down.

It took him about five minutes, but he finally managed to hail a cab. The ride was short, but Cuddy had been right; it would have been too difficult for him to walk.

Once they had arrived to the Hospital, he paid the driver and stuffed the change inside of his pocket as he set his cane on the ground to steady himself. House pulled himself out of the cab and limped across the street to the entrance.

He hadn't been inside of a hospital since he left PPTH. He was nervous for some reason, about going in, that is. He knew Cuddy had been avoiding the question, but they both knew that he missed his job; he missed the puzzles, the feeling of figuring out the impossible.

He missed saving lives.

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind as he opened the doors of the hospital. His eyes scanned the directory that hung on the wall as he frantically searched for her name.

A small smile escaped his lips as his eyes gazed over the engraved words, _Lisa Cuddy, MD. _He walked over towards the elevator and pressed the button; the door immediately opened.

He took a deep breath as he walked inside; he was completely alone.

His hand shook as he pressed the button for the third floor.

* * *

Cuddy sat at her desk, tapping her pen against the wooden surface as she skimmed through her emails. Her eyes wandered over to the clock for the third time in the last fifteen minutes; it was a quarter to one, and considering she had told House to meet her at one sharp, she figured he would saunter into her office in about half an hour.

She'd been preoccupied since the minute she walked in the door that morning. She had a million things to catch up on, but she just couldn't bring herself to focus on work.

She got up from her desk and began to pace back and forth. She ran a hand through her blown out hair and tried to calm her nerves.

Cuddy jumped when she heard him come barreling through her door, his cane pushing open her door.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, setting his cane back on the ground. He didn't walk all the way over to her desk, opting to stand in front of the door instead.

"No, sorry I just wasn't expecting you for a few more minutes," she replied.

Her heart rate had slowed and the pacing had stopped. She leaned against the edge of her desk and rested her hands on the surface.

"You said one."

"I know," she answered. "I just didn't expect you to actually show up on time."

"Rachel went go visit Fred, and I left all of my porn at my apartment, so I didn't have anything left to entertain me. By the way, you have one weird kid."

Cuddy smiled at the mention of Rachel, letting out a small laugh. "I don't know how she came to be so obsessed with those damn pandas."

"It's kind of cute," he relented. "Weird, but cute."

Cuddy's smile widened as she stood straight up from the desk. She turned around to grab her purse from behind her computer, her dress becoming even tighter with every move.

He tilted his head to the right, taking the opportunity to admire it from all angles.

She could feel him staring at her, and she paused, just for a moment, blushing as she allowed his stare to linger.

"We should get going," she said as she turned around to face him. "I still have a lot of work to do."

"Fine by me. I have a lot to get back to anyway."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief as she opened the door for him.

"Who knew being dead had so much responsibility?" she fired back. They walked out of her office side by side, their hands lying awkwardly by their sides.

"So, where are you taking me? The only money I have on me is the change I have from my cab ride, which is technically yours, but it would probably buy you a plate of lettuce."

"Just the lettuce?" she asked as her eyes shifted towards him.

She pressed the elevator button and folded her arms over her chest.

"There's a place down the street I go to all the time. And they serve plates with lettuce _and _carrots," she said reassuringly as she patted his shoulder.

Her touch was electrifying, even if it had been in a joking manner.

His hand started to shake again.

* * *

House sat across from Cuddy, watching her as she stared down into her plate. It had been silent since they sat down, neither of them sure how to begin the conversation.

"You know," began House as he popped a fry into his mouth. " I thought that one of the perks of no longer running an entire hospital by yourself would be that you got Sunday's off."

Cuddy looked up from her plate, cocking her head to the left while she spoke. "Well when you spend three days with a dead guy, work tends to get away from you," she said with a sarcastic bite in her tone.

House looked down, and for a moment she swore she saw a hurt look sweep across his face.

"I just have some tests I have to grade and paperwork to go over. Nothing major," she said reassuringly. "Listen, about last night…"

"We don't have to discuss it," he said simply.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Actually, I think we do."

"You clearly think it was a mistake, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting over there staring into your salad instead of looking me in the eye. You used me and I used you. See? Conversation over."

"I didn't say that it was a mistake," she replied, her voice trailing.

"No," he interrupted her, "But you were thinking it. I appreciate you trying to spare my feelings, but really, I'm fine."

"I'm just not ready to dive into that again," she said softly.

"What did I just say?" He set his sandwich back on the plate and leaned back in his chair. "You really want to know what I'm thinking?" he asked

She nodded her head and waved her hand out to him, gesturing for him to continue.

He sat up, placing his elbows on the table. "I need you in my life. Whether we're sleeping together or not is up to you because frankly, I always want to sleep with you, and I don't see that changing any time soon. I've only needed two people in my entire life, and I just lost one of them. I'm not looking to lose the other."

"Are you still on Vicodin?"

House glanced up at her in confusion. "Seriously? That's your response to what I just said."

"Just answer the question House," she asked, a hint of exhaustion in her voice.

"I'm still in pain," he replied.

Cuddy ran a hand through her hair, a frustrated look forming on her face. "That's not an answer."

"Okay." He shrugged his shoulders and wrinkled his brow, trying to figure out just how much he could say without actually answering the question. "I haven't taken any pills _today._"

It was a lousy answer, one he knew she wouldn't accept.

"I'm not going to play this game with you. Are you on Vicodin or not?"

He sighed before answering. She wasn't going to like his answer, but he didn't have the heart to lie to her; not after everything she had done for him the past few days.

"Can we go back to talking about you and I having sex?"

She rolled her eyes at him and pushed her chair backwards, as if she were preparing to leave the table. He spoke, causing her to stop her movements.

"Not in the way I used to be," he relented. She looked him dead in the eyes; he wasn't looking away or shuffling in his seat, and she could almost feel his deep blue eyes piercing into her soul.

"When Wilson died I thought the pills would numb my pain. And they did, for about an hour or so. But then they wore off, and the pain was still there."

Her face softened at his words, encouraging him to continue.

"And I kept thinking about what you said when you ended our relationship, all that "Pain happens when you care crap", and I decided that I wanted to care."

"House," she said lovingly as she reached her hand across the table, placing it on top of his.

"He asked me to tell him I loved him, and I said no. I said I wouldn't do that until he fought for his own life, until he proved to me that he thought his life was worth something. And then he did, and I still didn't tell him, not really."

"So you thought that if you stopped taking as many pills, you would finally show him that you cared," she said, piecing together his train of thought.

"Something like that." He nodded at her as he spoke. This wasn't something that he wanted to admit to her, or to himself even. "Look, I might never be as clean as you want, or need me to be, but I don't rely on them like I used to…and that scares me. Sex with you helps though."

She blushed, and then attempted to mask it with a look of distaste and a roll of her eyes.

"I just want you to know that I don't want to go back to being the guys who drives a car through his girlfriend's house."

Cuddy took a deep breath as the memories came flooding back to her. She could see that he had changed since then, but the image of her wrecked home never left the back of her mind.

"You do realize that there is a difference between wanting something and actually achieving it, don't you?" She was wary of his words; she'd heard the speech from him too often.

"Either I manage to fix what I broke between the two of us, or I go back to riding aimlessly around on a motorcycle for the rest of my life. Let me know when you've decided what you want."

He pushed his chair out from underneath the table and stood up. She sat there with a defeated look on her face, unsure of what to say.

He walked past her without saying another word.

* * *

A/N: I hope you all aren't too upset with the way this played out, it's just not the right time for them yet. Leave a review on your way out!

-Alison


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** And I'm back! Sorry, I know the wait for this chapter was a bit longer than usual, but I've been slammed with work lately and am struggling to find the time to update/continue to work on future chapters. There is quite a bit of Rachel in this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy what I've done with her!I've tried my best to write true to her age, but any type of feedback is of course, always welcome.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters. No matter how much room they take up in my heart.

* * *

Cuddy sat at her desk, the light beaming through the windows as she stared down at the seemingly endless pile of papers in front of her. Her red pen gracefully moved across the pages, her loopy handwriting leaving comments on her student's papers.

Her eyes narrowed as she thought back to what he had said to her a mere hour ago.

"_Let me know when you decide what you want."_

What did that even mean? She wasn't going to allow him to hold her responsible for his happiness; she'd been down that tortured road before, and had no intention of going back.

Maybe she had made the wrong decision. Going to that bar that first night, letting him into her hotel room, taking him back to her home- these were actions that suggested she wanted him back in her life permanently.

The thoughts in the back of her mind however, hadn't quite caught up yet. She let out a small sigh as she took another paper from the pile.

And then she slept with him.

When she thought about everything that had happened as individual events, her actions seemed inconsequential to his emotional stability.

But when she put them all together, the picture was completely different.

He was already broken. He didn't need her causing even more damage.

She practically jumped from her seat when her phone rang. She breathed a sigh of relief when her Blackberry read "Amelia."

"Amelia, hi. How's everything going?" Cuddy asked as she cradled the phone to her ear.

"Great. Rachel and I just left the Zoo and I was wondering where I should take her. Are you home or do you want me to swing by your office?"

Cuddy paused for a moment and furrowed her brow. She had no idea where House went, and she still had some work to do.

"Do you mind just bringing her here? I'm not quite caught up yet."

She smiled as she heard the muffled sounds of her daughter's voice through the phone. Knowing Rachel, she was more than likely spouting off facts about Red Pandas.

"Not a problem. We should be there soon; we're not too far away. Oh and Lisa? I expect full details on the man who was standing in your kitchen this morning."

Cuddy smiled into the phone as she spoke. "I'll see you soon Amelia."

She hung up the phone before Amelia could respond.

When she first moved to DC, Cuddy had been worried about finding someone to look after Rachel while she was at work. Now that Rachel was in school, she no longer needed someone all day, but as a single mom with a fairly demanding job, she definitely needed the help.

A co-worker had given her Amelia's information and credentials, and after a short interview Cuddy had offered her the job immediately. The two had clicked instantly, and Rachel was very fond of her.

She was young and vibrant, with a good head on her shoulders; her undergraduate degree and current enrollment at Georgetown University were proof of that.

Cuddy went back to the papers in front of her in attempts to push the thoughts of House out of her head.

She was worried about him. She knew she shouldn't be, but he was clearly upset when left, and she had no idea where he was. Cuddy shook her head as she reached for her phone, dialing his number.

"Where are you?" She asked as he picked up the phone.

On the other side of the phone, House glanced around his surroundings. He thought about making something up, but considering he didn't know the area very well, he figured lying to her was a lost cause.

"Sitting on the curb outside the Hospital," he said, embarrassed that he hadn't brought himself to leave yet.

"Have you been sitting there this whole time?" A worried look came across her face and she ran a hand through her hair.

"Seemed as good a place as any."

"Just come inside will you? Amelia is dropping Rachel off soon. I'm not getting any work done as it is anyway."

"Something on your mind, Dr. Cuddy?" he asked innocently, a smug smile on his face.

She rolled her eyes and rested her elbows on the desk. " I'll see you in a minute," she replied, hanging up the phone before awaiting his response.

A few moments later, House walked into her office. She looked up from her desk and motioned for him to have a seat in front of her.

Once he sat down, her eyes went back to the paper in front of her, a red pen poised in her delicate fingers as she marked across the pages.

He opened his mouth to say something but she quickly held up a finger, silently hushing him for the time being. Her forehead wrinkled in concentration as she turned to the last page. A small smile breached her lips as she clicked her pen closed.

"All done?" he asked. She had begun to pack up her things and was rummaging through the papers on her desk before stuffing them into her briefcase.

"For the time being," she replied as she set her briefcase on the floor next to her. "House, we need to talk."

"Why do I get the strange feeling that we've already had this conversation?"

"I'm going to say some things and I don't want you to respond. I want you to sit there quietly, listen to what I have to say, and _then _you can say whatever the hell it is that kept you sitting outside on that curb for an entire hour. Think you can handle that?"

"And if I say no?" He cocked his head to the right as he leaned back in his chair, doing his best to relax.

"You won't," she answered coolly as she folded her arms across her chest.

He nodded in understanding. "Lay it on me then."

She took a deep breath as before she spoke. "I was serious when I said that we can't put ourselves in that… _situation _again. We were both feeling emotional, and I was tired of feeling lonely, and I probably took advantage of the situation."

He opened his mouth in protest, but she raised her eyebrows at him suggestively, reminding him that he was not allowed to interrupt.

"It's not fair to play with your emotions like that, and I'm…sorry."

His eyes met hers as he took in her words. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilty about anything. He had already caused her pain; he wasn't interested in adding guilt to the list.

"If this is too much for you," he began as he leaned closer towards her "I can just go. Really, I'll be fine."

She sighed inwardly. "I don't want you to leave. I just want you and I to be you and I before we go back to being…us."

"That makes absolutely no sense," he said, a slight smile on his face.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You know what I mean," she retorted. "House, I really am glad you're here. I don't want you to think you're not welcome. I wouldn't have come to find you if I thought I was going to regret it. "

He was about to respond when they heard the door opening, and Rachel's high-pitched voice filled the room. Amelia followed behind her, telling her to use her "inside voice".

Rachel smiled brightly as she saw the hunched figure sitting in the chair across from her mother.

Cuddy got up from her chair to go greet them, and an amused look crossed her face as Rachel whizzed past her, heading straight for House.

"Hey short stuff," said House. Rachel waved at him and threw her backpack on the ground next to his cane. She rested her head on the side of the chair, her brown eyes looking straight up at him.

"Fred wanted me to tell you hi," she whispered. "But we can't tell Mommy because he didn't say hi to her, and I don't want her to feel left out."

Cuddy smirked as she overheard Rachel talking to House, and walked over to where Amelia stood by the doorway.

"Thanks for bringing her here, I hope it wasn't too far out of the way."

Amelia shook her head, waving her off. "Lisa it's fine, really. What I really want to know, " she whispered as she tilted her head towards House, "is who that guy is."

"I'm sorry, I should have told you he would be there when you picked Rachel up this morning."

Cuddy turned her head as she heard Rachel's light footsteps coming towards her. She stifled a laugh as her daughter took House by the hand, dragging him over to where Cuddy and Amelia stood.

"This is Amelia," said Rachel. "She's very nice and takes me to see Fred when I'm not at school."

Amelia smiled as she extended her hand to him. He shook it as he introduced himself. "Greg," he said, nodding at her.

"But I call him House! So does Mommy." Rachel gripped onto House's hand even tighter, and leaned forward towards Amelia. "Especially when she is mad at him," she whispered.

A confused look swept across Amelia's face, and she looked over at Cuddy, who was rubbing her the side of her forehead.

"I'll explain later," said Cuddy. "Rachel, say bye to Amelia."

Rachel dropped House's hand and rushed over to Amelia, encircling her tiny arms around Amelia's leg.

Cuddy looked over at House and raised her eyebrows at him, a knowing look on her face. "What?" he asked, "Rachel took my hand, not vice versa," he whispered.

He had always been a bit embarrassed by the power that Rachel seemed to hold over him.

"I'll pick her up for school tomorrow morning," said Amelia as she stroked the hair on Rachel's head. "I expect a phone call before that," she directed at Cuddy, turning her head as she walked out the door.

"Mommy, guess what?" asked Rachel. She skipped over to Cuddy's side and took her hand, tilting her head up to look at her.

"What?" asked Cuddy excitedly as she swung her and Rachel's hand back and forth.

"One of the mommy elephants is going to have a baby! We heard a zookeeper talking about it on the way to see Fred. I think I want to be a zookeeper when I grow up, they get to play with the animals all day."

"And clean up their poop," added House. Rachel scrunched up her nose and giggled. "Oh come one, you can't possibly think animal feces is _that _funny."

"House," began Cuddy as she rolled her eyes, "She doesn't know what feces means. Rachel, if you want to be a zookeeper when you grow up, then that's what you'll do."

"That's what Amelia said. And feces is another word for poop, Mommy. I learned that at the zoo last week."

House raised his hand in the air, using his other hand to beckon Rachel towards him. "Up high," he said.

Rachel jumped as high as she could, trying to reach his hand. She smacked him in the elbow instead.

Cuddy winced as she heard the sting of Rachel's palm against his skin. "Close enough," murmured House. "We gotta work on your aim, kiddo. Clearly your mom doesn't let you play enough video games."

"Video games can make your brain melt," said Rachel in a robotic manner. Obviously Cuddy had been drilling that into her brain for some time now.

"So will obsessing over animals who, by definition, will never actually speak to you."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest as a hurt look spread across her face. She walked over to Cuddy and hid behind her leg, her fingers clutching onto the material of Cuddy's skirt.

Cuddy sighed as she stroked the top of Rachel's head. "House, that's enough," she hissed. "Apologize to her. Now."

House dropped his shoulders in protest and let his head fall. Rachel peeked her head around the side of Cuddy's leg, her brown eyes looking expectedly at him as her bottom lip began to poke out.

He ran a hand through his hair and then looked at Cuddy, whispering, "Did you teach her that?"

Cuddy merely tilted her head in Rachel's direction. House took a deep, exasperated breath, and then stuck one if his hands in his jean pocket.

"Rachel, I'm sorry for…belittling your friendship with Fred. I'm sure that compared to all the other Red Pandas in the world, Fred is far superior."

Rachel scrunched up her nose in confusion as she tried to process what House was saying. "That's okay," she said, deciding that the apology was good enough for her. "You just don't know him yet."

Cuddy let out a slight smile as Rachel came out from behind her leg. Rachel yawned as she looked up at Cuddy. "Can we go home now?"

"Absolutely," said Cuddy, taking Rachel's hand in hers.

Rachel laced her fingers through her mother's, taking tiny footsteps towards the door. "Can we have ice cream for dinner?"

House chimed in before Cuddy had the chance to oppose the idea. "Absolutely," he said as he caught up to them.

Cuddy scoffed at the notion, shaking her head as they walked out the door. "We're not having ice cream for dinner."

"But _Mom_," whined House. He raised his eyebrows at Rachel, encouraging her to join in.

"Yeah, _Mom,_" she said, in her best whiny voice. She smiled sheepishly up at Cuddy, who was giving her a look of warning. "What about after dinner?"

"We'll see," answered Cuddy.

House leaned closer towards her, whispering in her ear, "You are such a pushover."

A chill ran down her spine as she felt his breath on her ear, "If I remember correctly, you're the one who was coloring pictures of Red Pandas with her this morning," she said, a sly grin on her face.

* * *

House settled himself on the couch with an old copy of the New York Times Crossword; his glasses perched on his nose. It was barely nine, but Rachel had gone to bed almost half an hour ago, sans ice cream.

They had left Cuddy's office hours ago, and by the time they had eaten dinner and Rachel had taken her bath, the five year old had forgot about the treat.

His eyes skimmed across the puzzle in front of him as he penciled in words on the page. He heard Cuddy fiddling around in the kitchen, but thought nothing of it-the woman rarely ever relaxed.

Cuddy walked over to the couch where House sat and rested her elbows on the edge of the couch as she leaned forward, a bowl of ice cream in her hand. Loose strands of hair fell in front of her face as she held the bowl out for him.

"I had to wait until Rachel went to bed," she admitted. He took the bowl from her, trying his best to refrain himself from reaching up and pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Playing tricks on five year olds, are we? Now that's just mean."

Cuddy straightened up, talking to him as she made her way over to the chair across from him. "Just a little thing I like to call parenting", she answered.

"I'm surprised you even have this in the house," he said as he swirled the spoon inside the bowl, mixing the flavors together.

"Sometimes I use it as a bargaining chip," said Cuddy, a sheepish smile on her face.

Cuddy wrapped herself up in a blanket as she settled into the chair. She curled her legs up underneath her body and laid out a few patient files on her lap. She clicked open her pen, scribbling across the pages as she made notes.

House smirked and went back to his puzzle. Cuddy ignored his remarks, choosing instead to focus on the files in front of her.

They were silent for a while, the lack of noise welcome to the both of them. Every so often, Cuddy would shift in her chair, and House would use the disturbance as an excuse to steal a glance or two from her.

"So," began House, deciding the he'd had enough of the silence. "I was thinking I should get a job."

"Doing what, exactly?" asked Cuddy, her eyes never leaving the papers in front of her.

"No idea, " he replied. "Shoe shiner, charismatic tour guide, friendly neighborhood pimp. The possibilities are endless."

"You do know your fair share of prostitutes. Plus you already have the cane," she deadpanned.

"It's settled then. You can be my protégé. I'm sure there are plenty of lowly Congressman who want to be bossed around by a leggy brunette."

"I already have a job, but thanks for the offer," she said mockingly. The tone in her voice shifted to a more serious note as she laid her pen on her lap and looked over at him. "House, I don't want you to feel like you _have _to get a job."

He paused before answering. "You like this, don't you?"

Cuddy sighed. She should have known that he would take what she said the wrong way. "I didn't say that. I just like to see you relaxed, that's all."

"No, " he interrupted. "You think I'm broken. You think you can fix me. And the only way for that to happen is if I continue to sit here with my puzzle book while you tend to my every need."

House got up from the couch and set the puzzle book on the coffee table in front of him. "I'm not broken, Cuddy. Just bored."

He began to walk down the hall when he heard her light, hurried footsteps catching up with him.

"House," she called out quietly, trying her best not to wake Rachel. He turned his head to look at her and raised his eyebrows expectedly.

"There's a bar not to far from here that Amelia drags me to sometimes," she began. "I know they're looking for someone who can play the piano and bar tend from time to time. I can talk to her, if you want me to."

"Thank you, " he stated. "Night Cuddy."

"Goodnight," she said softly, watching him as he walked down the hall.

Her mind raced as she trekked back to the living room; she was too wired to even attempt sleep.

If House was looking for a job, it meant that he was planning on sticking around for a while.

And that scared the hell out of her.

* * *

Cuddy rushed around the kitchen early the next morning, frazzled as she went back and forth from the refrigerator to the counter. She had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and she was busy getting Rachel's school things together.

Rachel was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, content with her bowl of cheerios. Her long brown hair was tied up neatly in a ponytail, her bangs swept to the side underneath a jeweled headband. She bobbed her head from left to right as she swirled the cereal around in the bowl with her spoon.

"Sweetie, eat your breakfast," Cuddy pleaded.

"I'm not very hungry Mommy."

Cuddy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Rachel never wanted to eat in the morning. "Just try for me, okay?" she asked.

Rachel sighed in annoyance as she turned back to her bowl. She lifted the spoon to her mouth and took a very small bite, trying to please her mother.

Cuddy turned her head and raised her eyebrows at her daughter. "You can drop the attitude while you're at it."

Rachel dropped her shoulders and bowed her head. She took an even bigger bite this time, smiling up at Cuddy as she chewed.

"Much better, " said Cuddy sweetly.

As soon as Cuddy turned away, Rachel went back to twirling her spoon with a less than impressed look on her face.

House walked lazily into the kitchen, his early rising surprising Cuddy. Rachel didn't acknowledge his presence, which was unusual for the normally excited five-year old.

"What are you doing up this early?" asked Cuddy as she continued to pack Rachel's lunch.

"Couldn't sleep," he answered. Cuddy winced as House began to rub his leg slightly.

He took a seat next to Rachel, who was still staring blankly into her cereal bowl.

"Who peed in your cheerios this morning?" House asked, turning his head towards her.

Rachel made a disgusted face, clearly not understanding the joke. "That's gross. Mommy puts milk in my cheerios, because that's what goes in cereal."

Cuddy smiled softly as she spoke, "It's just a saying Rachel. He was making a joke."

Rachel sighed and narrowed her eyes. "It wasn't a very funny one."

"That's because you think knock-knock jokes are funny. Give it time, we'll develop your sense of humor eventually."

Rachel sighed once more, much to Cuddy's dismay. "What did I say about that attitude?" asked Cuddy firmly

"Oh, you're in trouble now kiddo," whispered House

Rachel giggled a bit at House's remark, but quickly straightened her face as Cuddy glared at her. "To drop it," replied Rachel seriously.

Cuddy nodded at her, excusing her from the table. "Go get your backpack, Amelia will be here in a minute."

Rachel jumped out of her chair and pushed her half eaten bowl of cereal towards House.

"Sorry, she's a little testy in the morning."

"I would be too if I had to eat this crap every morning," said House as he took a big spoonful into his mouth. "You couldn't at least spring for the frosted ones?" he asked once he swallowed.

"So I called Amelia about that job earlier," said Cuddy, ignoring his crack at her grocery shopping habits.

"Seriously?" he interrupted. "It's only 7:30, how long have you been up?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes at him, and continued on with her train of thought. "She said she would give you the address when she got here."

"Great. I always thought my true calling was to serve drunken college students."

"Why, because you act like one?" Cuddy retorted

"And you wonder where your little spawn gets her early morning testiness from."

Cuddy smiled apologetically at him.

They were interrupted by the sound of Amelia walking in the door. "Sorry I'm late!" she called out.

She was pulling her long blonde hair into a messy bun as she walked into the kitchen. "Charlie was driving me insane this morning."

"Dog?" asked House

"Boyfriend," answered Amelia.

"Same thing."

Amelia nodded in agreement at him as Cuddy shot him a warning glare. " Rachel is just getting her backpack, she should be out in a minute. Want some coffee?"

Cuddy noticed that she had come in sans Starbucks, something that almost never happened.

"Yes please, that would be fantastic." Cuddy reached up to the cupboard above her, causing House's eyes to linger as her skirt tightened when she stood on her tiptoes.

Cuddy took the opportunity to refill her mug as she poured some into a travel mug for Amelia.

"Bless you," said Amelia as she took the mug. "Oh, before I forget, here's the name and address of the bar."

She dug into her purse and handed a slip of paper to House. "Andy and Joey are the two guys that own the place. Just tell them that you're a friend of mine, and you should be set. They usually get there around three in the afternoon, so you can pop in any time after that."

"Great. I'll be sure to wear my winning smile."

"That means thank you, in House," said Cuddy, taking a sip of her coffee.

Rachel walked back into the kitchen with her backpack draped across her shoulders.

"Hi 'Melia," said Rachel, her voice soft and weak. She sometimes chose to omit the first syllable of her name, especially when she was feeling extra tired or grouchy.

"Well good morning to you too. Hey guess what I read this morning?" asked Amelia. Her voice was bright and chipper as she attempted to put a smile on the little girl's face.

"What?" A smile crept up on Rachel's face as she waited eagerly for Amelia's response.

"Well, some of the zookeepers think that today might be the day that the Mommy elephant gives birth to the baby."

Rachel's eyes widened as her smile spread even further. "Can we go see after school?" she asked excitedly.

"I hear baby elephants only want to be visited by little girls who aren't so grouchy in the morning," said Cuddy

Rachel giggled as Amelia nodded her head in agreement. "Ready to go?" Amelia asked.

"Yes!" said Rachel, as she walked over to where Cuddy stood. Rachel wrapped her arms around Cuddy's waist, giving her a tight squeeze. "Bye Mommy, I love you."

"I love you too. Have fun at school, okay?" She bent down and kissed Rachel on the head.

House watched the two interact, and was surprised when Rachel approached him next. "You can play with my toys while I'm gone if you want. But you have to put them back where you found them. They get confused when they go to sleep in a different place. Plus, Mommy gets mad at me."

"Thanks, but I'm not really into the whole Princess thing," replied House.

"I have stuffed dinosaurs too. Besides, Mommy says there are no girl or boy toys, only small minded people," said Rachel robotically.

Cuddy almost spit out her coffee in amusement; she was often amazed at how great of a memory her five year old had.

"Do you remember everything your mommy tells you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Rachel scooted closer to where House sat, standing on her tiptoes as she cupped his ear with her hand. "Only if I think it's important," she whispered.

"Rachel, we have to go. You don't want to be late, do you?" called Amelia from across the kitchen.

"I'm coming," said Rachel as she hopped down from House. She walked quickly to the door and grabbed Amelia's hand.

She waved goodbye to House and Cuddy as she walked her and Amelia out the door.

House got up and walked over to the counter. Cuddy was leaning slightly against the surface, one arm folded across her chest as she nursed her coffee cup, the other resting on the edge of the surface.

He reached for the coffee pot and grabbed a cup from the cabinet that Cuddy had previously reached from. House filled up his cup, and as he placed the pot back in the container, his hand accidentally grazed hers.

Cuddy jumped as their hands met, causing a surprised look to come across his face.

She quickly lifted her hand up to push a strand of hair out from her face, attempting to mask her embarrassment.

House smirked into his coffee cup as he leaned against the counter next to her. She cleared her throat before speaking. "I have a present for you."

"Finally buy those crotchless panties I've been begging for?"

Cuddy walked over to her briefcase and grabbed the files she had been milling over last night. "Here," she said as she placed the files in his hand. "I thought you could use a different type of puzzle book."

"Are these your current patients?" he asked, trying to hide the smile that was forming.

"Not exactly, " she replied. "They're old cases that were solved by some of my colleagues. Inside you'll find the symptoms that each patient presented with, and then a timeline of symptoms that followed."

"They all still alive?" he asked. He wasn't interested in coming across patient's lives he could have saved.

"They were all treated and cured. Each case took at least twenty-four hours. See if you can do it in less."

She smiled as she walked away from him and grabbed her briefcase.

"Is this what you were working on last night?" he asked

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders. "I'm going to be late. Call me when you're done, if you want."

She walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. She heard him call out as she had her hand on the doorknob.

"Just so you know, this isn't me admitting that I'm broken," shouted House.

"I realize that," she called back to him.

She smiled as she closed the door behind her. For the first time in two years, she felt genuinely happy.

She cursed herself as she realized who was responsible for it.

* * *

A/N: That's all for tonight! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Leave a review on your way out, if you so wish :)

-Alison


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the feedback on the last chapter, I really am glad you're all enjoying it so much. I know some of you still have a lot of questions regarding House and his lack of identity, and I promise, all of that is coming soon.

Also, just a heads up about the direction of this story: I realize that there are quite a few stories out there that feature House working at a bar. I racked my brain searching for something different, but I honestly think this is the most fitting thing for him. I hope none of you are put off by that. If you are, I'm sorry! That was truly not my intention.

**Disclaimer: **They're not mine, unfortunately.

* * *

House was seated at the piano, his fingers lightly pressing down on the keys as he waited. After spending most of the morning working on the cases that Cuddy had left for him, he had decided to venture on over to the bar that Amelia had suggested.

He had rolled his eyes dramatically when he discovered that the name of the bar was "The Capitol"; how clever, he thought. He was pleasantly surprised by the interior of the building though. It was fairly new, but had a rustic feel to it.

The piano was situated catty-cornered to the bar, which took up a majority of the space near the front entrance. There was a single pool table on the other side of the room, and a few tables were placed in the center.

It was small, but seemed to do pretty well.

"You Greg?" asked a younger man as he walked out of the back room. House guessed that he was about twenty-seven or so. He was fairly tall, standing at about 6'2.

House lifted his fingers from the piano, turning towards the younger man. "That's what they call me."

"Joey," he said, introducing himself. He walked over towards the bar, an old dishrag in his hand. He began to wipe down the bar as he continued his introduction. "So this is pretty much it, " he said, gesturing around the room.

House nodded as he looked around and Joey continued to speak. "You found the piano, and obviously, this is the bar. Uh, we have a couple pool tables in that corner, but most of the action happens in this general area. You know your way around a bar?"

House hesitated before answering, choosing his words carefully. "I'm very familiar with alcohol. We go way back," he said jokingly.

Joey smirked a bit at his response. "That's all we we're looking for really. Amelia mentioned you play?" Joey turned his head towards the piano.

House nodded once more. "Need me to play you something?" he asked

Joey continued to wipe down the bar as he shook his head. "Nah, if Amelia said you can play, then you can play."

"Are you always this trusting?" asked House curiously.

Joey smiled sheepishly and hung his head, choosing to furiously wipe down the wooden surface instead of answering his question. "So you know Lisa?" he asked, changing the subject.

" Do _you _know Lisa?" he asked, her name rolling off of his tongue; he hadn't said her first name in years.

"She's come in with Amelia a couple of times. She does this thing where she sits at the bar, orders a drink and finishes it. Then she'll let someone buy her another one, and then she feels obligated to engage in some type of conversation, which of course the guys interprets as flirting. Then she just up and leaves. In all my years of being a bartender, I've never seen men so displeased with themselves. And what's even worse, is that she knows exactly what she's doing."

House smirked, trying to hide the smile on his face. "You're pretty observant. Most people think she does that kind of thing on accident."

"I'm a bartender. I get paid to be observant. Anyway," continued Joey. "The job is yours if you want it. I can't really afford to pay you anything, so you'll only earn what you make in tips. Which is usually quite a bit, especially if you can play as well as Amelia says you can."

House breathed a sigh of relief; the only way for him to keep his name out of any records was to never receive a paycheck. Cuddy must have spoken highly of his talents. Amelia had never heard him play before.

"I don't have to wear one of those shiny vests, do I? Glitter tends to clash with my eyes," joked House.

Joey let out a small laugh. "No man, what you're wearing now is cool. We're pretty casual here."

"Amelia mentioned another guy? Andy, I think."

Joey smiled a bit at the mention of Amelia's name, but his face quickly straightened out as he saw House staring knowingly at him.

"Uh, yeah Andy. He owns the bar with me, but is more of a silent partner than anything else. He does all the behind the scenes stuff. He'll be here tomorrow night though, so you can meet him then. Listen, I've got some last minute stuff to do in the back, but come back around seven or so tomorrow night and we'll get you started."

Joey extended his hand casually, and House shook it, his grip firm. House dropped his hand and furrowed his brow, a curious look on his face.

"You're in love with her, aren't you? Amelia," he finished, as he saw a confused look come upon Joey's face. "I get it," he continued. "She does have very pretty hair. It's almost like—

"Rapunzel, " interrupted Joey. "You're pretty observant too."

"What can I say? I'm a people person."

House shot him a boyish grin and preceded to walk away from the bar and towards the door.

He whistled as he opened the door, the sunlight beaming down on his face. Adam remained at the bar, a stunned expression on his face.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Cuddy was seated at her desk, buried in a mountain of paperwork. She had been working furiously since she had come in, desperately trying to make up for her lack of focus lately. Thankfully, her new job wasn't half as demanding as her old one. At first she had struggled with it; she didn't quite know how to work without the weight of the world bearing down on her shoulders.

But then she would come home to her smiling daughter, and she was able to spend time with her. She read her bedtime stories, had dinner with her, played insipid board games that of course, Rachel found to be the most fascinating thing in the world; she had to time to be the mother that she had always wanted to be.

And she had grown to love her job. She got to be a real doctor again, and she read patient files instead of budget reports. It was different, but it was a good different.

Cuddy turned away from her thoughts and back to the files in front of her, breezing through them as her loopy handwriting marked across the pages.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was nearing two in the afternoon. Her stomach growled, giving her a not so friendly reminder that she had neglected to eat lunch. She had to teach her weekly class at four, so if she wanted to eat, she needed to do it soon.

Her phone began to vibrate in her purse, and she fumbled her way through her bag to retrieve it.

Amelia's name was displayed on her screen, and Cuddy cursed herself as a wave of disappointment ran through her bones; she had hoped House would be the one calling.

Cuddy shook her head and answered the phone, "Hey Amelia, everything okay?" She was always worried when Amelia called in the middle of the day.

"Oh it's fine, I was just seeing if you were free right now? You're probably busy with work. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you. But I just got out of class, and I just thought that maybe-

Cuddy interrupted the girl, the worried look on her face still there. "I was actually just looking for a lunch date. Amelia, are you okay?" Cuddy furrowed her brow; Amelia was usually much more composed than this.

"I'm fine, I swear. I think I may be having a quarter life crisis, though. But nothing to worry about, I'm sure it will pass."

"That doesn't sound like nothing," retorted Cuddy.

"Want to go to the café next to the hospital? I can meet you there in fifteen minutes or so. I think I'm going to walk, the metro can be so busy this time of day."

"Amelia, are you sure you're okay? It's two in the afternoon, hardly anybody is on the metro right now."

"Still, I could use the fresh air. And I'm fine, I promise. See you in fifteen!"

Cuddy opened her mouth about to protest, when she heard Amelia hang up on the other end.

She shook her head and let out a slight laugh as she gathered up her things. Cuddy made her way out of her office, and smiled politely as she passed some of her co-workers.

Luckily, none of them had stopped her to ask how she had been the past few days. It wasn't that she didn't like some of her colleagues; in fact, she genuinely enjoyed their company, and had the highest respect for them.

But she knew what happened when you mixed business with pleasure-and she wasn't ready to open herself up to that again.

She checked her phone once more as she walked, pretending to scroll through her emails, when in reality she was making sure House hadn't tried to get in touch with her. Cuddy sighed as she threw her phone back into her purse.

She didn't know why she was so concerned with what House was doing.

That was a lie. She did know-she just wasn't willing to admit it to herself. Not yet, anyway.

Cuddy arrived at the restaurant minutes later. It was a nice day, so she chose a table on the covered patio that lined the street.

She sipped on the glass of water that was placed in front of her while she waited for Amelia to arrive. She had set her purse on the opposite side of the table so not to be tempted to check her phone for the millionth time in ten minutes.

She drummed her fingertips on the table as she waited, desperate to give herself something to do. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Amelia's blonde hair whipping through the wind as she hurried over to their table.

"Hi, " said Amelia as she sat down. Her face was flushed, but she seemed to be a bit calmer than she as a few minutes ago.

"Enjoy your walk?" asked Cuddy, a smirk on her face.

Amelia took a long sip of her water and shot Cuddy a sheepish grin. "I did, actually. It was very eye opening."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Amelia, what is going on with you? I've never seen you so…frazzled."

"I have come to the realization that I am bored with my love life," answered Amelia.

"With Charlie? I thought you guys were doing great."

"We are. There's absolutely nothing wrong with the way Charlie treats me."

Cuddy nodded her head. She knew the feeling all too well. "And you think that's a problem," said Cuddy, finishing Amelia's train of thought.

"Well, isn't it? A problem, I mean."

Cuddy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was always wary of giving people advice when it came to relationships. Her track record didn't exactly inspire any self-confidence.

"I think it's only a problem if you think it's a problem," said Cuddy, choosing her words carefully.

"You are terrible at giving relationship advice," said Amelia, clearly dissatisfied with the answer she had been given.

Cuddy let out a small laugh. "You do know that I am single, don't you?"

Amelia scoffed. "Are you though? I mean come on Lisa, why else would you let Greg, or House, or whatever the hell you call him, live in your home?"

Cuddy gently lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip before she spoke. "Don't you have friends with _actual _boyfriends?" asked Cuddy, deciding to ignore the question entirely. "I'm sure they could offer you some much better advice."

"They're tired of hearing me bitch about it," muttered Amelia. "And don't deflect, you have to talk about it eventually."

"When did this conversation become about me?" asked Cuddy. "I thought we were discussing you and your aversion to boredom."

Amelia nodded her head in agreement. "I just feel like I have been dating Charlie my entire life. We met in undergrad almost six years ago, and have been dating for four. And we've gotten to that point where we either get engaged, or one of us bites the bullet and just breaks it off entirely."

She sighed, taking a sip of her water as she continued. "Have you ever been bored?" asked Amelia

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders before answering. "Yes," she said definitively.

"And what did you do about it?" asked Amelia, a concerned look on her face.

Cuddy pushed a strand of hair away form her face before she spoke. "Well, for starters we got engaged. "

Amelia's eyes widened in horror, and Cuddy held up a finger, signaling her to give her a minute to explain.

"Then a crane collapsed in Trenton, and there was this patient that House had, and I was there with him the whole time, and he...by the end of the night I had broken off my engagement and had told House I was in love with him," continued Cuddy.

A slight smile had formed on her lips, and she cleared her throat as she fought back the tears that were forming in her eyes as she reminisced.

"It was all very dramatic, but it was the most honest I had ever been with myself," she finished, nodding her head as she spoke.

Amelia dropped her shoulders, a sad look on her face. Cuddy gave her a slight smile as she tried to find the words to comfort her.

"Amelia, you're young," began Cuddy. "Don't end up like me. Don't wait for the metaphorical crane to collapse."

* * *

Students began to fill the lecture hall in preparation for Dr. Cuddy's weekly class. The room was almost filled to capacity, on account of how popular her class was.

But it wasn't the subject matter that students were interested in; it was herself. She especially attracted the male half of the student body.

The young man smirked as he took a seat in one of the middle rows. He left the set next to the aisle open, preferring not to be seated near the walkway.

He glanced up at . She was sitting at her desk near the front of the lecture hall, slouching provocatively as she waited to begin the class.

Eventually she got up and made her way towards the front of the crowded auditorium.

He saw her lips moving, but he wasn't taking in anything she said.

In fact he didn't even notice when someone had quietly slipped into the seat next to him.

He jumped when he heard the older man talking to him.

"Are you even listening to a word she's saying?" asked House. He had decided to drop by Cuddy's office after his meeting with Joey.

Fate had handed him an excellent opportunity when one of her colleagues informed him that she was teaching a class downstairs.

"Not a word. Dude, it's a wonder I'm even passing this class."

"Yeah, I bet it's hard." House paused before continuing, smirking as the guy's eyes widened next to him. "The class, I mean. Oh God I'm sorry, did you think I meant something else?" asked House, feigning innocence.

The boy squirmed in his seat a bit, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange that was occurring.

House leaned closer to him, careful not to catch Cuddy's eye. If she saw him now, his entire plan would be ruined.

"By the way, she's wearing a black lacy bra with matching thong. I know, because I watched her get dressed this morning. See ya!"

He hadn't actually watched her get dressed that morning, but he'd had her lingerie collection memorized for years.

House stood up and cleared his throat, the familiar sound of his interrupting voice causing Cuddy to do a double take; she hadn't seen him come in earlier.

As he walked up the aisle of the auditorium, Cuddy folded her arms and glared at him, shaking her head at the proud look on his face.

Several students looked back and forth at each other, curious as to whom the man walking up to their Professor was. The room filled with audible whispers as students began to wonder aloud amongst themselves.

"Your colleagues are all morons," exclaimed House. He was still a few feet away from her, so he felt that it was appropriate to shout.

Clearly, she did not feel the same way.

Cuddy walked towards him with a less than impressed scowl on her face. "Excuse us, " she said to her class.

The very second that House closed the gap between them, Cuddy grabbed onto the flimsy material of his t-shirt and dragged him over to the far corner of the room.

"Ow," said House as Cuddy dragged him along. "Didn't your mother teach you it's not nice to drag cripples across the floor?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" hissed Cuddy. "I told you to _call _me when you finished, not barge in here while I'm in the middle of teaching."

"First of all, you weren't in the middle of teaching," began House. "You'd barely started. Second of all, half of the class isn't paying attention to you anyways, on account of the low cut blouse you're wearing. "

Cuddy scoffed in protest as House continued. "Third of all…" his voice trailed off as he realized he didn't actually have a third point. Cuddy raised her eyebrows expectedly at him, waiting for him to continue. His eyes landed on her chest, distracting him from his thoughts.

House wrinkled his brow as he tried to think of his third point. Much to Cuddy's amusement, he came up short. "The point is, that the people you work with are idiots."

"You said that already." House handed the files over to her with a smug smile on his face. Cuddy looked at him in disbelief. "Did you finish these already?" she asked

"All six of them," he answered proudly.

"And how do you know you're right?" she asked. He gave her a knowing look that she quickly dismissed. "Right, well as happy as I am that you came all the way down here to insult the people I work with, I need you to leave so I can go back to teaching. Or as you so eloquently informed me, letting students stare at my breasts." She patted him apologetically on the shoulder, a tiny smirk on her face.

Cuddy turned to walk away from him, and he watched as she strutted back towards the front of the room. He couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn she added a little jaunt to her step solely for his benefit.

A small laugh escaped his lips as he hobbled around the outside of the auditorium. His eyes met faces of many students, several of which had incredulous looks plastered on their faces.

"Who knew learning about hormones could be so _fun?" _whispered House jokingly as he made his way to the exit. The few students that heard him snickered, and were once again, distracted by Dr. Cuddy's visitor.

He paused as his hand grazed the brass knob that would lead him back towards the hallway. House cocked his head to the left, pondering the situation, as he turned around and took a seat in the very back.

Cuddy couldn't hide the sly grin that had formed on her face when he turned back around.

He winked at her from the back of the room as she began her lecture for the second time.

* * *

Cuddy fumbled with her keys as she made several attempts to open the front door of her Georgetown home. It was nearing seven, and she needed to start getting Rachel ready to settle down for the night.

She had been distracted since the minute House interrupted her class earlier, her mind flooding with memories of similar stunts he had pulled back in Princeton. She had seen him settle into the back row as opposed to sneaking out the door per her instructions, and at first she thought his presence would make her uncomfortable-nervous, even.

But that wasn't the case. She taught with more ease and relaxation than she had ever before.

She shook her head as she finally managed to fit her key into the lock and opened the door quietly. Cuddy was greeted by a room full of darkness; the house sounded quiet and empty as she made her way through.

"Hello?" she called out softly, her whispered murmur and the click of her heels on the hardwood floor filling the air. "House, are you here?"

Cuddy heard his muffled response as she wandered further into the house. "In here," he replied. She sighed at his lack of specificity and followed the sound of his voice into the living room.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" she asked softly. He could tell she was concerned just by the tone of her voice.

House was spread out on the couch, his head on one end while his feet lay resting on the other. A small throw pillow was supporting his head, and a blanket was draped across the lower half of his body.

"I'm in a mood," he responded flatly.

Cuddy sighed as she made her way into the living room. She knew that eventually, the novelty of their situation would wear off, and House would snap back into his perpetual state of misery; or reality, as he liked to call it.

He had been fine when she saw him earlier and she wondered what possibly could have transpired in the span of two hours to make him feel this way.

"Where's Rachel?" she asked. She unbuttoned her blazer and slid it off. Her voice was tired, but she seemed more relaxed than she had this morning.

"She's in her room. I told her to go draw me something so she would leave me alone."

"Well, " scoffed Cuddy, "I'm sure she was thrilled. I'm going to check on her, I'll be back."

Cuddy slipped out of her heels and walked down the hallway towards her daughter's room.

She knocked softly on the door as she opened it, letting Rachel know that she was coming in.

Rachel was lying on her bed, her head at the opposite end of her pillows. Her knees were bent and she was swinging her feet back and forth. A few beanie babies were scattered in front of her.

She didn't seem too upset by the fact she had lost her playmate while simultaneously being banished to her room.

"Hi sweetie, " said Cuddy as she walked in. Rachel looked over at Cuddy, smiling up at her.

"Hi Mommy," answered Rachel sweetly. She sat up and pushed some of her beanie babies out of the way, making room for Cuddy to sit down next to her.

"House told me you drew a picture for him."

Rachel nodded and hopped down from her bed, scurrying over to the small table where she kept her pictures. "I drew him a dinosaur. Do you think he likes dinosaurs?"

" Oh, I'm sure he does," encouraged Cuddy. Did Amelia fix you something for dinner before she left?"

Rachel nodded, and Cuddy tried not breathe out a sigh of relief. She didn't have the energy to fight with Rachel about eating anything.

"She made me a grilled cheese and we shared an apple. Amelia dipped her apple slices in peanut butter, but that looked gross so I didn't want to try it," explained Rachel.

Cuddy laughed slightly at her daughter's antics. Rachel made her way back to where Cuddy was seated, and climbed back up on the bed as she showed her the drawing she had made earlier.

"I named him House-osauraus. Like a Tyrannosaurus, but his first name is House instead of Tyranno." Rachel sounded out the syllables very slowly as she spoke, not wanting to mess up the name.

Cuddy smiled down at her as she spoke. "I think he's going to love it," she replied. "Why don't you wait to give it to him tomorrow though, okay? He's not feeling to well right now."

"Okay. Mommy, did we do something to make him sad?" Rachel asked as she set the picture on the bed next to her.

"No honey, we didn't do anything." Cudy rubbed her back softly, doing her best to comfort the little girl. "He just misses his friend, that's all."

"But you're still his friend, right?" Rachel looked up at her, her eyes big and wide.

Cuddy closed her eyes and pressed a kiss to Rachel's head. "Yes, " she answered. "House is still my friend."

* * *

After spending some more time with Rachel, Cuddy wandered back into the living room. House was still lying on the couch, but he didn't seem to be sleeping.

She walked over to the couch and nudged him lightly on his shoulder. He looked over at her and then sighed, knowing she would want to talk. He sat up slowly, and left his feet sprawled out across the couch.

Cuddy sat down in the small space that House had left for her. He immediately settled back into his original position, deciding that her thighs would act as a decent enough pillow.

Cuddy let out a small sigh as she felt his head resting on her legs. Earlier she had changed into a pair of yoga pants and tank top, and the feeling of his skin against the flimsy material was all too familiar.

"Still in your mood?" she whispered. When he didn't respond she pushed a little further. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"If I wanted to talk about it, I would talk about it," he retorted.

"House," she challenged, glaring down at him.

"Can't we just sit here and ignore our problems like normal, well-adjusted adults?" he asked as he blinked dramatically up at her.

"You and I are the furthest thing from well-adjusted," she stated. "Is this about Wilson?" she asked, her tone softening as she approached the subject. "You seemed fine a few hours ago."

"That's the problem," he answered quietly.

Cuddy nodded her head in understanding, and closed her eyes as it clicked. "You still think you don't deserve to be happy."

"Not this soon," he responded.

Cuddy let one of her hands fall to his chest as the other began to run through his hair.

"He wouldn't want you to be miserable, House. He would want you to be happy."

"He would want to be alive. That's what Wilson wanted. All he wanted to do was live."

Cuddy sighed as she continued to run her fingers through House's hair. "So live for him. Stop being so self-deprecating and just live. You're the one who says dying changes everything."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. He turned his head towards hers, their eyes locking.

"Because, you need me House. And for some screwed up reason, I need you. And I just don't think that's a bad thing anymore."

"Funny. That's the same thing Wilson said." A small smile appeared on his face, and Cuddy smiled back down at him.

She still had one hand resting on his chest, and he began to run his fingers up and down her arm. "You know, you're kind of sending me mixed signals here."

Cuddy sighed, an embarrassed look sweeping across her face. She pulled her arm away from him.

"Hey, hey, " he protested playfully. "I didn't say I wanted you to stop."

Cuddy scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. He pulled her arm back to his chest, allowing it to lay flat against him.

House closed his eyes as he continued to run his fingers up and down her arm. He paused for a moment or two, unsure if he should voice his thoughts.

Finally, he gave in to himself and murmured softly, "Cuddy?" he stated.

She looked down at him as she spoke, "Hmm?" she answered, too emotionally exhausted to give a proper response.

House let his fingers fall across her arm, giving her all his attention. "I'm glad you're as screwed up as I am.

* * *

That's all for now! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it. The story is of couse, mainly about House and Cuddy, but it's interesting to dive into some of the other characters. Leave a review on your way out please!

-Alison


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **And we're back! Thank you for all the kind words regarding the last chapter, I really appreciate those of you who continue to read and take the time to review! I hope you enjoy this next chapter, there's a little bit of everything in it.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned them I wouldn't feel the need to be writing this, now would I?

* * *

A month had passed. They had fallen into a comfortable routine; Cuddy went to work, Rachel went to school (and the zoo, on occasion), while House spent most of his time at the bar.

He had formed a small friendship with Joey, the other bartender at The Capitol, and House would make his way over to the bar most afternoons. Joey would go over the records and do the occasional chore, while House would sit at the piano and just play.

Neither of them would admit it, but they both enjoyed the company that the other one brought.

House tried to rationalize his afternoon visits to Cuddy, claiming that it was the only piano available for him to practice on. She hadn't pushed the issue-there was no need to; she already knew the reason he was holding back.

Wilson. He had only been gone for a little over a month, and he wasn't ready to form any semblance of a friendship with someone.

Especially if it was somebody that he worked with.

They hadn't spoken about Wilson since the night Cuddy had found him sitting alone in the dark, wallowing in self-loathing. She had done her best to comfort him, but she knew that this was something he needed to deal with in his own way-and in his own time.

He knew she was there for him, and for now, that was enough. There were of course, smoldering glances and sexually charged touches that transpired between the two of them, but neither had made any explicit advances.

They both knew that the timing just wasn't right. For now, at least.

She may not be giving him everything he wanted, but she was giving him everything he needed.

And when it's all said and done, that's all he ever wanted in the first place.

Cuddy's eyes fluttered open as she heard the sound of soft murmurs and giggles fill her room. Her gaze shifted to the clock, where the glowing neon lights of her bedside clock read 1:58.

She drudgingly sat up, a confused look on her face; she didn't remember the tv being on when she fell asleep a few hours ago.

She groaned as she noticed that there were two new occupants to her bed. House was sitting upright next to her, a bowl of popcorn in his hands. Rachel was lying sideways at the foot of the bed, her head resting near House's legs.

"You have got to be kidding me," hissed Cuddy, an angry look on her face.

"I told you she would be mad," whispered Rachel.

"You're the one who couldn't be quiet," responded House.

"What are you even doing awake? I put you to bed hours ago." Cuddy directed at Rachel. Rachel simply pointed at House, her eyes big and wide as she tried to play the card of innocent-bystander.

Cuddy turned her head towards House, who simply shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, ignoring her protests.

"Did you wake her up for the sole purpose of antagonizing me?" she asked groggily.

Rachel yawned as Cuddy spoke, causing her mother to sigh in frustration.

"She woke up when I came in from the bar half an hour ago. Not my fault she wakes at the sound of a pen dropping."

"You didn't drop any pens, silly. I heard you making the popcorn."

House rolled his eyes and looked at Cuddy, who was rubbing the side of her forehead. "Rachel, go back to bed. Now," demanded Cuddy.

"Fine," Rachel groaned as she hopped down from the bed, dragging her ladybug pillow pet with her.

"And no stops along the way!" Cuddy added. Rachel trekked back to her room, a small scowl on her face as she walked.

Once she was gone, Cuddy picked up the pillow that was next to her and smacked House on the arm with it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, as he rubbed the spot where the pillow had landed.

"What were you thinking? She's five, she needs her sleep. _I _need my sleep. You can't just wake her up because you need a playmate."

"Did you not hear a word she said? I didn't do it on purpose, the kid found me in the kitchen."

"Right," began Cuddy. "And I bet it was her idea to come in here, as opposed to going back to sleep in her own room."

"Oh no, I take full credit for that one." House popped another handful in his mouth. "What else was I supposed to do? Tuck her in bed and read her a bedtime story? Not really my thing if you hadn't noticed."

"And," continued House. "It's a Friday night, it's not like she has school in the morning. And you don't have to work tomorrow, so I really don't see the problem here."

"Clearly," stated Cuddy. "You know, I gave you the guest room for a reason."

"You only did that so you wouldn't feel tempted to jump my bones. That plan obviously didn't work out for you, so I just figured all bets were off."

Cuddy rolled back into her pillow, deciding sleep was worth more than arguing with him. "I'm going back to sleep. Just don't get any crumbs in my bed," she murmured.

"Night Cuddy," said House.

He picked up a piece of the popcorn and threw it at her, a sly, playful grin on his face. She sighed as she felt the kernel hit the back of her hair.

Cuddy reached behind her and fished the piece from her hair, setting it on the table next to her. An amused look had crossed her face, but she refused to give House the satisfaction.

"Goodnight House," she whispered.

He could practically hear her smiling through her words. House smirked as he clicked off the tv and set the bowl of popcorn on the floor next to him.

He sank down into the pillows behind him as he got underneath the covers, his body inches away from her.

Cuddy stared at the wall, trying to force herself into going back to sleep. She cursed herself inwardly as she rolled over to face him.

His arm was extended over her pillow, and she let her head fall to the crook of his neck as he absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down her shoulder.

"See you try and act all big and bad, but we both know you're just a softie who wants someone to cuddle with," he whispered as his fingers lightly grazed her skin.

"Either shut up or go back to your own room," she spit back.

Cuddy closed her eyes once more, welcoming sleep as it came to her. House waited until he heard the slow sound of her breathing evening out before he allowed himself to shut his eyes.

* * *

Cuddy slipped on her sunglasses and stifled back a yawn as she and Amelia made their way through The National Zoo. Rachel was skipping a few steps ahead of them, eager to get to the lion exhibit.

"Rough night?" asked Amelia, a suspecting look on her face.

"House woke me up in the middle of the night," replied Cuddy.

"Did he now?"

Cuddy narrowed her eyes as she spoke. "It wasn't like that. He managed to wake Rachel up when he came in and they ended up watching tv in my bed. He was just trying to grate my nerves."

"Tell me again why you aren't sleeping with him?"

Cuddy swallowed hard, a guilty look on her face. She looked ahead to make sure Rachel was okay, doing her best to avoid the conversation.

Amelia's eyes widened when she didn't respond. "You are totally sleeping with him, aren't you? I don't blame you, he's pretty hot. And so are you. Hot people should always be sleeping together."

Rachel turned around as she impatiently waited for her mother and Amelia to catch up. "Hurry up guys, the lions are going to be out soon!"

Cuddy took Rachel's hand as they caught up, grateful for the momentary pause in her conversation with Amelia. As soon as they reached the exhibit, Rachel quickly dropped her hand from her mother's and sped over to the wall that kept the animals enclosed in their wildlife environment.

Cuddy and Amelia took a seat on the bench a few feet away from where Rachel stood. "Rachel, don't get too close, okay?" called out Cuddy.

Rachel simply nodded her head as she watched the lion cubs interact with each other.

"I'm not quite sure how to bring this up again without sounding like a nosy pervert. But Lisa, you deserve to have someone lay on top of you every once in a while."

Cuddy scoffed. "It's a bit more complicated than that. Sex with House is always great, it is. That's not the problem. The problem is what comes after the sex."

"So don't let it be a problem. That's how relationships get screwed up. When you expect something to fail, eventually it will. Things that normally wouldn't be a big deal get blown out of proportion, because you're constantly waiting for something to go wrong."

"What about you? A month ago you were the one with the relationship issues," deflected Cuddy.

"We're not talking about me. And if you didn't want to be psychoanalyzed, you shouldn't have hired a psychologist to watch your kid."

"I didn't end my relationship with House over something minute. Small is basically the antithesis of our issues," said Cuddy.

"Why are you still holding on to the past? You're both in a different place now, you don't know what could happen. You have to at least try, Lisa. I know you, you'll regret it if you don't."

"Why are you so interested in this?" asked Cuddy

"Because," began Amelia. She turned her head towards Cuddy, noting the tired look in her eyes. "I care about you, and I want you to be happy. I don't have a family, not really. You and Rachel are all I've got. And you both deserve to be happy."

Cuddy smiled softly at her words. Amelia's parents had gone through an ugly divorce right when she was entering college. It had torn her family apart, and after a while, Amelia had cut them off entirely.

Cuddy pulled Amelia into her arms, enveloping her in a small hug. Amelia choked back tears as she laughed apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to turn this into an "oh poor Amelia, she doesn't have a family" conversation."

Cuddy let out a small laugh. "You're right," continued Amelia. "It's your life, do what you want. Let's talk about something else, okay?"

Cuddy nodded thankfully as she diverted her eyes towards the exhibit, keeping a watchful eye on Rachel. The little girl was standing quietly at the edge of the fence, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look.

Rachel turned her head as she felt her mother's eyes on her. She smiled widely and gave them both a small wave. One of the lion cubs let out a playful roar, causing Rachel to jump at the sudden sound.

Amelia and Cuddy smiled at Rachel's apprehensiveness.

"What are your plans for Thanksgiving? Charlie is dragging me up to Connecticut to have dinner with his family. I'm sure they'll all be decked out in their khaki pants and striped sweater vests. It's all very nautical."

Cuddy closed her eyes and began to rub the sides of her temple. "Oh my god," she muttered.

"You completely forgot, didn't you?" asked Amelia

"I've been a little preoccupied lately. I barely have time to check my email, let alone a calendar."

"Well, " began Amelia sympathetically, "You still have two weeks. That's plenty of time to figure something out. Don't you usually go to your Mom's?"

"Yes," answered Cuddy definitively. "Listen Amelia, there are certain things about my relationship with House that I can't tell you. And House doesn't exactly get along with my mother, or Julia."

Amelia's eyes widened in concern as she listened. "Should I be worried?" she asked

Cuddy shook her head, "No, it's really nothing you need to concern yourself with. It's just—

"Complicated," finished Amelia. The word had become all too familiar with her. "Lisa, how exactly do you plan on sitting through an entire dinner without Rachel mentioning the fact the House has been living with you for the past month?"

Cuddy sighed as she ran her hand through her hair, wracking her brain for a solution. She was a smart, well-accomplished woman. She could find a way.

The alternative simply wasn't acceptable.

Reality began to set in as she turned her head towards Amelia. "I don't know," she answered.

* * *

House heard the faint sounds of Rachel's voice as she and Cuddy returned from wherever they had ventured off to a few hours ago. Rachel had been crankier than normal this morning, which of course Cuddy had blamed him for.

With good reason, perhaps.

On the other hand, she didn't exactly kick him out of her bed.

The pair walked in through the front door, Rachel talking a mile a minute while Cuddy pretended to listen.

House was sitting on the couch, his laptop open as he read one of the latest entries of an online medical journal that he frequented.

He shut the laptop when he saw Rachel skipping into the living room to greet him, her ponytail swishing from left to right as her head bobbed.

"One day you head is going to fall off," said House.

"No it won't," she fired back as her eyes narrowed. "Mommy says you say things like that just to scare me."

"Your mommy isn't nearly as smart as she thinks she is."

Cuddy scoffed from the doorway.

"Oh no," whispered House. "Do you think she heard me?"

Rachel scrunched up her face and giggled, and a small smile began to form on House's lips.

"Rachel, why don't you go play in your room for a bit?" asked Cuddy. "I need to talk to House alone."

Rachel's eyes darted back and forth between the pair, while House leaned back against the couch. His eyes met hers, and Cuddy quickly bowed her head as she felt his stare lingering.

"Are you guys fighting?" Rachel asked seriously. Her bottom lip began to poke out, and Cuddy dropped her shoulders as she walked over to where Rachel stood.

"No," reassured Cuddy. Rachel eyed House suspiciously, and he stared back as her eyes darted back and forth between House and her mother.

She sighed as she walked over to where House was sitting. She picked up her ladybug pillow pet that she had discarded on the couch earlier that morning.

"You can come play in my room if Mommy starts yelling at you," she whispered. "We can have a tea party. Tea parties always cheer me up."

"Tell that to England. They weren't too fond of our last one," he answered.

"Rachel, I will come play with you in a few minutes, okay?" said Cuddy

Rachel nodded as she hugged her pillow pet to her chest, smiling at House as she scurried out of the room.

Cuddy waited until she heard the clicking sound of Rachel's door shutting before she took a seat next to House.

She slipped off her shoes and brought her feet up to rest on the cushion beneath her, tucking them underneath her legs.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Cuddy smiled at his concern. "No," she answered. "House, what are we doing?"

"Ah, so we're having_ this _conversation again."

"No, not again." Cuddy shook her head at him. He rolled his eyes as he leaned back into the cushion. "We never had it in the first place."

"Sure we did," he said. "I tell you I need you, we have sex, you tell me you're not ready for us again. I remember it very well. Did you want to start over? Because I'd be willing to have sex again, if that's something you think you need."

Cuddy glared at him, ignoring his remarks. "How do I explain to people who you are? You don't exist."

"Nobody here knows that," he said.

"House, I work in a hospital. The chances of you being recognized are slightly higher there than anywhere else."

"You barely talk to your co-workers. They're not going to be interested in the weird cripple who hangs around your office from time to time. And Amelia's smart, but she doesn't seem like the type to go digging around in your personal life."

He paused, his eyes catching hers as he began to piece it all together. "This has nothing to do with the people around here, does it?"

Cuddy fidgeted in her seat as she readjusted herself. "No, it doesn't. Thanksgiving is coming up…"

"And you're trying to figure out how you're going to get this past the other, lesser Cuddys," he finished.

Cuddy scoffed as a small smile came across her lips. "I thought about not telling them, but Rachel will be there and she won't be able to sit through an entire dinner without mentioning you."

"Just don't go. Can you honestly tell me you want to spend Thanksgiving with Julia and her bratty kids, all the while listening to your mother go on and on about how you suck at being an adult?"

"I can't not go," said Cuddy. "I always have Thanksgiving at my Mother's."

"Strangely enough, I didn't hear the words, "I enjoy spending Thanksgiving with my family" come out of your mouth."

House closed his eyes in frustration. He hadn't thought about how this was going to affect the people around her. He was too busy thinking about how it was going to affect her individually.

"How much do they know?" he asked.

"Not much. They know that you went to jail and were eventually released, but other than that I've kept them in the dark. There wasn't much to tell anyways, Wilson made sure of that."

"Wilson?" asked House. His brow furrowed and his ears perked up at them mention of his name.

Cuddy's face softened as she explained. "I'm sorry, I should have told you this earlier," began Cuddy. She lifted a hand to her face and rubbed her eyes before continuing to speak.

Cuddy took a deep breath as the memories came flooding back to her. " When Wilson thought you were actually dead, he told everyone that he should be the one to tell me."

House smirked as he realized where this was going. "But he didn't, did he?"

"No," said Cuddy quietly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Originally, his plan was to call me after your funeral. That way I didn't feel obligated to attend. But then…"

Her voice trailed off and her hand gestured in the air.

"So you really didn't know?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I really didn't know." Cuddy placed her hand on House's shoulder, letting it rest there as she spoke.

House nodded. "How often did you and Wilson talk over the past two years?"

His tone was flat; he wasn't angry, or sad, or curious. He was just blank.

"Not too often, once or twice every two months or so. After a while, it just got too hard for me to hear."

"How come he never told me?" House turned his head towards Cuddy, their eyes locking. His eyes darted over to her hand; it was still lying atop his shoulder.

"I told him not to," answered Cuddy.

"And he listened?"

Cuddy scoffed. "Apparently. After a while, I think he started to give up on the two of us."

"Did you?" asked House

Cuddy pulled her head back, a look of shock. "Did you?" she fired back.

"I asked you first," he said as he shrugged his shoulders. She dropped her hand from his shoulder

Cuddy tilted her head to the left and narrowed her eyes at him. "That's an impossible question to answer."

"It's a simple yes or no. I'm not asking for an explanation." His eyes stared directly into hers, begging for an answer. She stared back, her arms folded across her chest.

"Not everything is so black and white," she responded. House raised his eyebrows expectedly at her, waiting on a response. Cuddy sighed, giving in to him.

"House," she began, her voice becoming more demure as she spoke. "If I had really given up on us, do you think we would be sitting here right now?"

His eyes lit up and he tried to hide the smile that was forming on his lips. She smiled down at him as her words resonated within.

He looked down at the floor as he spoke. "I can go with you, if you want," he said.

Cuddy straightened her back and unfolded her arms. "To Thanksgiving dinner?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. "You think that's a good idea?"

"No, I think it's a terrible idea," he said seriously. Cuddy opened her mouth to protest, but House quickly cut her off. "But it's better than you having to face the two of them alone."

Cuddy smiled sheepishly at him as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She hadn't expected him to react this way. A part of her thought he might immediately pack his things and leave, another part of her thought…well, she didn't know _what _she thought.

"I'm going to go check on Rachel," she said, deciding that she had had enough for the time being.

She still had two weeks to figure something out, but for now, his willingness was enough.

Cuddy patted his thigh softly as she stood up, silently thanking him. She began to walk towards Rachel's room when she heard him call out to her.

"Cuddy," he said. It wasn't a question, or a plea. It wasn't a demand. It was just her name. But she could sense the need, the want, the emotion that plagued his voice.

She braced herself for whatever it was that he was about to say. She'd recognize that tone anywhere. Cuddy looked over at him, her expression warm and inviting.

His eyes were wide and his face seemed as if he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"If Wilson had called you, if you had known, would you have come?"

Cuddy's face softened even more at his question. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her mind racing as she searched to find an answer to his question.

"I don't know," she said.

It was the truth, the heartbreaking, gut-wrenching truth-and it was all she could afford to give him right now.

He nodded at her. "Okay," he said, his tone surprisingly upbeat.

"Okay?" she responded, a hint of confusion in her voice. She nodded back at him, their eyes meeting once more. Cuddy smiled before speaking again. "Okay," she said, her tone matching that of his first response.

"You should go check on Rachel. I wouldn't want her tea party to get too out of hand."

Cuddy smiled softly at him before walking out of the living room.

She still didn't know what the hell they were doing. But whatever it was, whatever it meant, it was going to work.

It had to.

* * *

Cuddy was sitting on the couch, her feet curled up underneath her as she mindlessly flipped through the channels on the television. Rachel was lying down on the carpeted floor in front of her, her nose buried in a coloring book.

House had left for the bar about an hour ago. They hadn't spoken much after the trying conversation that they'd had earlier that afternoon. Cuddy was at a loss; she didn't know what to think anymore.

Every time she turned around, House was surprising her. She hadn't expected him to react in that way.

Maybe he really was changing.

But every time she thought about the life that they could have together, her mind immediately went to the fact that he didn't really exist. How could you have a life with someone who doesn't even have a life at all?

She loved him. And he loved her. But maybe that's just not enough anymore.

Maybe it never was.

Or maybe Amelia was right-maybe she was just overthinking this.

Rachel's sudden movements pulled her from her thoughts. "Mommy, what is Amelia doing here?"

Cuddy strained her head towards the front door as she heard the sound of Amelia coming inside, her muffled sounds filling the air. "Lisa?" she called out.

"We're in the living room," answered Cuddy with a hint of confusion in her voice.

Rachel stood up quickly, rushing over to meet Amelia at the entrance.

"Hey kiddo," said Amelia as Rachel took her hands in hers, dragging her into the living room.

"What are you doing here?" asked Cuddy. "And why are you dressed like that?"

Amelia smiled at her, a devilish look in her eyes. She was wearing a fitted black dress, and her long blond hair hung in loose curls.

"You look very pretty 'Melia," said Rachel as she swayed back and forth, using Amelia's hand as leverage.

"Well thank you, Miss Rachel," said Amelia sweetly. Amelia turned towards Cuddy. "I'm meeting some friends at The Capitol. Go get dressed, you're coming with me."

Cuddy scoffed at her request. "I don't think so," she said.

"Come on, it will be fun. You haven't come out with me in ages. Besides, House will be there. If you get bored you can just talk to him."

"I don't have anyone to watch Rachel," she said, using any and every excuse she had to get out of this.

"I've already taken care of that. "Rachel," Amelia directed at the little girl. "How would you like to play with Charlie for a bit?"

Cuddy sighed as her daughter broke out into a wide smile and nodded her head excitedly.

"See? Problem solved. Charlie's on his way over, and we should go soon. So go on, go put on something fabulous. Rachel and I will hang out until you're ready."

"Wouldn't you rather go out with Charlie? I'm sure he would be much more fun."

"Why are we still discussing this?" joked Amelia. I'm doing a girl's night. You're a girl, and you're my friend. So you're coming."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, her feet still glued to the floor beneath her. Amelia walked over towards her, her heels clicking as she walked.

Amelia placed her hands on Cuddy's shoulders and spun her around, directing her to her bedroom. "Go," she demanded.

Cuddy didn't respond. Clearly, Amelia wasn't going to take no as an answer.

But there was a reason she had been avoiding the bar since House began working there.

The last time she was in a bar with him, she had taken him home with her.

And that was before everything that had between them in the past two months.

Cuddy pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she traipsed back to her room, venturing into her closet. She thumbed through her clothes before carefully selecting a black dress; it was similar to the one Amelia was wearing.

She groaned as she slipped into the dress. She grabbed her flat iron and made furious attempts to tame down her curls.

Once she was satisfied with the way her hair looked, she leaned forward into the mirror as she applied mascara, her mouth slightly ajar as the applicator fluffed her already thick eyelashes.

She slathered on a bit of lip-gloss, the deep red contrasting her lightly tanned skin and bright blue eyes. She straightened up and took one last look in the mirror.

She looked down and readjusted the side of her bra, pushing her boobs slightly together. Cuddy jumped as she heard the sound of Amelia's voice.

"Ohh Mammacita! You look _hot._"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I am getting too old for this," she said.

"No one is ever too old to look hot. Especially you."

"Amelia, it really is sweet of you to invite me, but I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Cuddy leaned against her dresser as she spoke. She began to fiddle with the necklace that she had placed on her neck earlier.

"Will you stop worrying? It's going to be fun. Besides, if you don't come, I'm going to have to spend the whole night talking to Kelly and Lauren."

"Amelia," began Cuddy seriously. "Lauren and Kelly are your friends."

"I know. That's how terrible of a person I am. I don't even like my friends. Except for you, of course. I blame my mother for all of this."

"I cannot believe you just played the broken family card," said Cuddy mockingly.

Amelia grinned wickedly at her as she ventured into Cuddy's closet. She carefully selected a pair of black pumps.

"Here," she said as she handed Cuddy the shoes. "Wear these."

Cuddy sighed as she took the heels from Amelia. Cuddy placed her hand on Amelia's shoulder for balance as she stepped into the shoes.

"Is Charlie here yet?" asked Cuddy. She took one last look in the mirror before she grabbed her purse from the bed.

"He got here five minutes ago. Ready to go?"

"Do I have a choice?" Cuddy fired back.

"None whatsoever."

Cuddy sighed as Amelia linked her arm through hers, dragging her out the room.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**A/N: **See, I told you we would get to his identity soon! We've only touched base on it, but it's a start, right? I hope you all were pleased with the direction I took; it was the only way that made sense for everything that I have planned for later chapters.

Thanks for reading! Leave a review on your way out to let me know what you think :)

-Alison


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Hello all! Thank you again for all the reviews on the last chapter. I am so glad you're looking forward to this one! This one was really fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy reading it! It's a little different than some of the other chapters, seeing as how it all takes place in one setting. This would have been up sooner, but every time I open up my computer I get distracted by Katy Perry and Demi Lovato...

Also, just a heads up: This story is now being written on a chapter to chapter basis. All that really means is that the updates may be a tad slower than they have been in the past. I expect there to be about a 4-5 day wait period between each installment. As for the amount of chapters there will be total, I'm still not quite sure. I'd envisioned there would be about ten, but I quickly realized that was not ample time to tell the story that I wanted to. I'm going to guess anywhere between 15 and 20! And I'm _hoping _to have this done before I leave for college in the next few weeks, but we'll see.

**Disclaimer: **This is getting rather redundant, but I don't own them. I simply rely on them for entertainment.

* * *

Cuddy was seated at one of the few tables in the center of the bar. Amelia was to her direct left, while her two friends, Lauren and Kelly, were sitting across from them. Kelly was babbling on about some guy she was having casual sex with, while Cuddy was unconcernedly sipping on her drink.

She had stopped paying attention about five minutes ago.

Amelia was smiling over at her friend, throwing in a laugh every once in a while for good measure.

The truth was, she wasn't paying attention either.

Cuddy's eyes wandered over to the bar. House was standing behind the wooden surface, playfully pouring drinks and engaging in witty repartee with a few of the guests.

She hadn't spoken to him when she walked in, deciding that it was better to simply saunter past him without saying a word. She'd shot him a wicked smile as she sat down, and he'd smirked back at her in response.

A boyish grin had appeared on his face, and he'd felt Joey jokingly slap him on the back, which he quickly shrugged off.

Cuddy lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip. Amelia did the same and turned to face Cuddy, a look of slight annoyance plastered across her face.

"So Lisa, " interrupted Amelia loudly. She desperately wanted to move on to a different topic. "Explain to me how you manage to get hotter with every passing day?"

Cuddy glared at Amelia, who was laughing quietly to herself.

"I need another drink," she muttered. "I'm going to the bar," she added with a smile.

Amelia dug her fingernails into Cuddy's thigh, begging her not to leave her alone. Cuddy flinched and then turned to face Amelia.

"Do you want to come?" she asked as she strained the muscles in her face, trying her best not to yelp out in pain.

Amelia let out a sigh before answering. "No, you go ahead. You should talk to House anyway, you haven't spoken to him all night."

"House?" asked Lauren

"As in the totally hot new bartender guy?" Kelly added.

Cuddy picked up her drink and took one last sip, draining it of it's content. "He's an old friend," she answered.

The two girls nodded skeptically, and Amelia quickly tried to change the subject once again, inquiring about the necklace Kelly was wearing. Kelly's eyes lit up and immediately indulged Amelia's question as she began to explain every detail of the purchase.

Cuddy took a deep breath and walked away from the table, making her way over to the bar. House was wiping down the surface with what appeared to be a very dingy looking dishrag.

He looked up and their eyes locked. His eyes didn't wander up and down her body like they normally did. Instead, he was staring straight at her.

A sharp pang occurred in her chest; she could actually feel him piercing her soul with his eyes.

She blushed as she got closer to him. She smiled sheepishly as she gracefully slid into one of the bar stools, setting her empty glass in front of her.

He nodded at her and she nodded back, a playful grin on her face. He took the glass from her and wordlessly refilled it.

He handed it back to her and she took a small sip, the liquid burning down her throat.

She was the first to break the silence. "How'd you know that's what I wanted?" she asked.

He leaned over closer to her. "I always know what you want."

Cuddy scoffed and took another sip. "That," she began, "is not true."

"Okay," he said, playing along. "Right now you'd do just about anything to get the hell out of this place."

"If I wanted to leave, I would just leave," answered Cuddy.

"No actually, you wouldn't," he continued, a smile forming on his face. "Because you know Amelia is almost as miserable as you are, and you wouldn't leave her alone, because you love her more than you hate those vapid girls across from you."

Cuddy bowed her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, shaking her head as he recited her thoughts word for word.

"So, " he continued, "you thought you would find the next best thing."

"Which is?" she asked

"Me," he responded triumphantly.

She leaned across the bar and set her elbow on the surface, pointing playfully at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Cuddy asked, her tone a bit harsher than she had intended.

"I'm enjoying watching you readjust yourself while you desperately try to find something to entertain you besides the conversation you're having. You move one inch in a dress that tight and your boobs practically fall out."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and tilted her head, flipping her hair back casually. House's eyes widened a bit, and Cuddy smiled, impressed with what the subtle movement did to him.

"Well, " she began, her voice charged with sexual tension, "I didn't want to be upstaged by a couple twenty-five year olds."

House smirked at her, wanting to reassure her that she _always _looked better than most twenty year olds, but deciding against it.

They were interrupted by the sound of Joey's voice as he gravitated towards them.

"Lisa," he greeted her sweetly. "It's been a while."

She smiled up at Joey, comforted by the fact that he had noticed her absence.

House interrupted, muttering quietly, "Dude, will you go away. I'm trying to hit that, if you know what I mean," he said quietly.

"Many have tried, many have failed," responded Joey.

Cuddy sighed, "It's good to see you, Joey," she answered ignoring House's remarks.

"It's funny that you say that, because for a while there I actually _was_…"

He was cut off by Cuddy slamming her drink on the surface of the bar, a threatening smile on her face.

"Sorry," House directed at Joey. "I don't know if you know this about her, but she has anger issues."

"Don't you have other customers to tend to?" asked Cuddy

House opened his mouth, about to respond with an obnoxious comment, when Amelia slid into the seat next to her

Amelia huffed and ran a hand through her hair. Joey smiled down at her and reached behind him, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the shelf. He poured her a shot and quietly slid it over to her.

Amelia downed the shot rather quickly, throwing her head back as the liquid trickled down her throat. Joey was holding out a slice of lime for her to bite into, which she graciously took.

"Bless you," she said, once her throat had recovered from the stinging substance.

"You okay over there?" Cuddy asked, amused at what had just occurred.

"Yes. I just think that maybe if I get _really _drunk, I will be able to tolerate my friends."

Cuddy turned her head to look at the table where they had been sitting. The two girls were suddenly surrounded by several college-aged boys, and were engaging in some type of sloppy drinking competition.

She looked up at House, whose eyes immediately moved from her chest up to her deep blue orbs.

Amelia let out a sigh, a pitiful look on her face. "Can I just hang out here with you guys?"

Joey nodded and poured her a real drink. She smiled in appreciation at him as she spun her finger around the rim of the glass that he had handed to her.

Amelia squinted her eyes at House, surveying him up and down. She tilted her head and furrowed her brow, the lines in her forehead wrinkling.

"Can I call you _Gregory_?" she asked, drawing out the syllables of his name.

Cuddy choked back a laugh and practically spit out her drink as she saw the mortified look on House's face.

"Just how drunk are you?" he asked, staring her down.

"Oh, I'm not drunk at all. Slightly tipsy,_ maybe_, but not drunk. That was a legitimate question. I am however, going to take your biting tone as a no."

House took continued to stare down Amelia as he tried his best to piece together the young girl's mind. He'd known for a little bit over a month, and even then, she was a bit of a mystery to him.

He folded his arms across his chest as she stared back, before he finally dared to open his mouth.

"You do know that it's not normal for someone your age to prefer the company of a middle-aged single mother as opposed to sorority girls and drunk college boys who will do anything to get in your pants, don't you?"

Amelia rested her elbows on the edge of the bar, leaning closer to answer his question. "And what may I ask, do you consider to be normal, Gregory?" she fired back.

House narrowed his eyes at her as he unfolded his arms. He glanced over at Cuddy, who was sitting there with a playful grin on her face, amused with the exchange that was occurring between them.

Cuddy took a sip of her drink, waiting for House's response.

Joey stood there nervously, afraid of what House might say to Amelia. He knew she could hold her own if need be, but he'd seen the way House had treated customers before; some encouraged it, some get offended within seconds.

House smirked down at her. "Oh, you're gonna be fun."

He tapped his hand on the bar in front of where Cuddy was sitting as he walked away wordlessly. Cuddy shook her head at him as he passed her and walked to the other end of the bar.

"Lisa, where exactly did you find him?" asked Joey, a hint of laughter present in his voice.

Cuddy scoffed, "That," she began after taking another sip of her drink, "is an excellent question."

"I still don't understand why you're not sleeping with him," said Amelia as she threw her arms on the bar. Cuddy shot her a glare while Joey stifled a laugh. "I'm sorry okay, I _know _you don't want to talk about it but Lisa, I swear to god If I weren't dating Charlie…"

"Where is Charlie, by the way?" interrupted Joey. Cuddy smiled softly at him, grateful for the change in subject.

"I made him babysit Rachel so I could drag this one out with me." Amelia nodded her head over towards Cuddy, who took another sip of her drink.

"Well, I for one am glad you guys are here. I've got some stuff to do in the back, but find me or House if you need anything."

Joey nodded at the pair before walking away. When he was gone, Cuddy turned her to face Amelia.

"Will you please stop talking about how House and I need to have sex?" she pleaded

"Why?" asked Amelia. "Is my talking about it making you want to do it even more? Because if that's the case, then I'm not stopping. Sorry."

Cuddy rolled her eyes as Amelia continued. "I'm hungry, are you hungry? Do you think Joey would let me order a pizza?"

Cuddy let out a slight laugh at Amelia's ignorance. " Amelia, Joey would hand over the deed to this bar if you asked him to."

Amelia scoffed. "That's ridiculous, he doesn't even like me that much. Honestly I wouldn't go as far to call us friends, more like acquaintances. Yes, acquaintances. Joey and I are acquaintances, nothing more."

"Amelia, I know for a fact you are smarter than that," responded Cuddy

"Fine, I'll prove it to you. There is no way he is going to let me do this." Amelia cleared her throat before calling out his name. "JOEY!" she yelled.

Cuddy winced as Amelia's high-pitched shout pierced through her eardrums. She saw House turn his head from the other end of the bar, and she held her hand up to him as she shook her head, silently telling him to stay where he was.

A few moments later, Joey appeared from the back room and began to walk towards them. Amelia's face reddened and Cuddy smiled triumphantly at her, glad to have been proven right.

"You need something?" he asked. Amelia could practically taste the concern in his voice.

"Yes," she said, recovering quickly. She smiled sweetly at him as she tossed her hair back behind her. "Would you mind if Lisa and I ordered some pizza?"

"You want to order a pizza?" he asked skeptically. "And have it delivered here?"

"Yes," said Amelia definitively.

"And you're not going to share with anyone else?"

"Not a chance," she said. Joey raised his eyebrows slightly, causing Amelia to quickly add, "Except for you and House, of course. You guys can have some."

Joey sighed as he turned around and grabbed the cordless phone from its holder.

"Here," he said as he handed her the phone. "Knock yourselves out."

Joey headed back to the back room after handing Amelia the phone. Cuddy looked over at her and laughed as she took another sip of her drink.

"Oh, shut up," said Amelia as she began to dial the number on the phone. "Do you mind just camping out here for the rest of the night? I'd rather hang out with you alone, anyway."

Cuddy looked across the bar before answering. Her eyes caught his and he stopped whatever it was that he was doing as he stole a glance from her. She lifted her glass to her lips and took one last sip, downing the remaining content.

A genuine smile began to form on House's lips, and he ran a hand through his hair as he tried to mask it. She smiled slyly and winked at him before turning her head back towards Amelia.

"Sure," she said. "Let's just hang out here."

* * *

The crowd had started to die down within the hour. Most of the college students had moved on to another bar or party, and a majority of the middle-aged patrons had turned in for the night.

Kelly and Lauren had run off with some of their other friends, and had popped by the bar to say their slurred goodbyes about half an hour ago. They had insisted Amelia and Lisa tag along, but the pair politely declined; Lisa covered for Amelia, insisting that she needed her to take Rachel in the morning.

There were only about twenty people or so left in the bar, and people were trickling out with every passing moment.

Cuddy and Amelia hadn't moved since they had sat down over two hours ago. A half eaten pizza box was lying open in front of them, and Cuddy was picking apart a piece of crust when House wandered over.

"Enjoying your snack?" he asked

"I didn't eat dinner," she answered slyly. Cuddy plopped a piece of the hardened bread into her mouth, letting her finger linger inside of her mouth for just a moment.

House reached inside the box and stole a slice, sloppily biting into it.

"So, " began Amelia as she took a bite from her own piece, "when are you going to show off your musical talents? Isn't that why Joey hired you in the first place?"

"No actually, " said House mockingly. "He hired me for my charm. Apparently people don't mind being treated like an idiot if you're shoving alcohol down their throat."

"I was just curious as to why we were listening to Joey's ipod instead of you serenading one of us."

"I don't do serenades. And you guys missed your chance. I finished a set about five minutes before you walked in." he replied. "Why does your little nanny friend ask so many questions?" he directed at Cuddy

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him as she took another bite from the crust.

"Why are you so put off by them?" asked Amelia

House sighed and rolled his eyes, "Again, with the questions."

Amelia sighed and proceeded to push her chair out. "I'm going to the bathroom. Don't have too much fun without me." She shot Cuddy a knowing glance as she walked away.

Cuddy shook her head and then looked up at House, a playful glint in her eyes.

House looked around the bar and then back at her. "We're alone," he said

Cuddy turned her head from left to right as she surveyed the space. It was completely deserted. "That we are," she answered.

"Wanna make out?"

Cuddy scoffed and narrowed her eyes at him. She got up from her seat and began to walk around to the other side of the bar.

"Okay, see I was joking but if you're being serious…"

Cuddy glared at him before cutting him off. "Teach me how to do whatever it is that you do back here."

House eyed her skeptically. "You want me to teach you how to be a bartender?" he asked

"Yes," she said, her face free from expression. She was completely serious.

He shrugged and nodded his head. "Okay," he said. "Now I don't know if you know this, but some girls like to dance on top of the bar while they mix drinks. So for your first lesson, I'd like you to take off all your clothes and show me what you got. That way I know exactly what I'm dealing with here."

"I'm not stripping for you, House," she said as she pointed her eyes at him.

"Fair enough," he replied. "We'll start with the basics and get to the stripping later."

She scoffed as she went and stood next to him. Her arm lightly brushed up against his, and she turned her head towards him, looking up at him with a small smile on her face.

He looked down at her, grateful for the chance to be alone with her.

They both quickly looked away and cleared their throats, embarrassed by the longing stares that they had been sharing.

"So what are we making?" she asked, a playful grin replacing the loving smile that was on her face moments ago.

House reached underneath the bar and pulled out a bottle of vodka, tossing it to her. Cuddy's eyes widened as she quickly reached her hand out to catch the glass bottle that was flying towards her.

"First rule," he began, "Never drop the alcohol." House turned around and reached into the wooden icebox. He scooped up a handful and placed it into one of the shakers that were lying next to the container.

He poured a splash of vermouth to the shaker, and Cuddy smiled as she realized what they were making. "Vodka Martini?" she asked

"Had to start some where," he replied. "Here, shake this." Cuddy took the silver vase from him, encircling her delicate hands around it as she shook it up and down.

"Next comes the bitters," he said. Cuddy unscrewed the lid and he limped over closer to her, dropping the liquid in as she held it steady.

House took the shaker from her and held it out straight ahead. Cuddy sighed and glanced warily at him. "What?" he asked. "This is the best part. Grab two glasses, will you?"

Cuddy walked over to the fridge and took out two martini glasses. House tilted his head a bit, admiring her backside as she walked away from him.

He quickly straightened up as she began to walk back towards him. She placed the two glasses in front of him, and raised her eyebrows at him, letting him know that he'd been caught.

He ignored her glaring look and ushered her out of the way. She moved behind him a bit and placed her hand on the back of his shoulder, peering her head around the corner to get a better look.

House flipped the container into the air and then swiftly caught it as it came flying down. He poured it into one of the glasses and topped it off with an olive.

"Your turn," he said as he handed her the shaker.

Cuddy shook her head and held up her hand. "I don't think so," she said.

House rolled his eyes and shoved the container into her hands. "All you have to do is toss it in the air and catch it."

Cuddy sighed as she grasped onto the shaker. She smiled hesitantly at House, who nodded his head in encouragement.

She tossed it into the air and then jumped away when it came crashing down in front of her. She let out a small laugh as she watched House close his eyes slowly.

Her hand was bunched into the material of his t-shirt, and she had an amused look on her face.

"What was the first thing I said?" he asked as he turned his head towards her, a smile dancing across his lips.

"Not to drop the alcohol," she said, laughing through her words.

She was still standing behind him and she curled her hand around his bicep, resting her head against the back of his shoulder as she continued to laugh.

After a few moments, Cuddy gathered herself together. She bent down and picked up the silver vial, reaching up to hand it to House. He exchanged it for a dishtowel, which she promptly used to wipe up the spilled contents on the floor.

House held out his hand and she grabbed onto it, letting him pull her up from the floor.

Once she was up and situated, House handed her the drink that was meant for himself. "I'm not supposed to drink on the clock. Besides, I bet Joey twenty bucks that I could get you to have a third drink."

Cuddy scoffed. She hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking the drink from him. "He told you about that, huh?" she asked after taking a sip.

House nodded and Cuddy blushed as she took another sip of her drink.

Cuddy's ears perked up when "Beast of Burden" by The Rolling Stones began to play. House looked around the bar, checking to make sure everyone was gone before extending his hand out to her.

"What are you doing?" she asked

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked as he extended his hand further. She smiled and laced her hand through his.

She led him out from behind the bar so they were standing in the open space between the tables and bar stools.

She wrapped one hand around his neck and let the other fall to his shoulder. His hands gravitated towards her hips as he pulled her closer to him.

Cuddy smiled into his shoulder as they swayed to the slow rhythm of the music; it had always been one of her favorite songs.

His hand began to run up and down her back, the other situated at the small of her back. His touch was electrifying, sending shivers up and down her spine with every lingering connection.

She tightened her grip on him as she pulled her face out of the material of his shirt, opting to look him in the eyes instead.

"We should have done this more often," she murmured.

"Danced alone in empty bars?" he asked. His hand continued to run up and down her back as their bodies moved in perfect harmony with each other.

Her heels clicked on the hardwood surface as her feet moved in tandem with his. Her hand moved up from his shoulder, wrapping around his neck as her eyes met his.

"No," she said, playfully hitting his arm. "I mean we should have just…been together. I like being with you, you're fun. You make me want to have fun. I'm not sure you ever understood that."

House's hand paused on her hip as he sighed. "I knew," he said. "I just never understood why."

Cuddy closed her eyes briefly and tightened her grip around him. "That's part of our problem, House. You're constantly questioning everything I do because you just can't wrap your head around the idea of someone loving you."

"Someone like you," he corrected. "I can't wrap my head around the idea of someone like you being in love with someone like me."

The song ended and the music stopped, but neither let go. Cuddy's arms were still wrapped around his neck, and his hands were still encircling her tiny waist. Their feet had stopped moving, but their eyes were still glued on one another.

"Why?" she asked. "You think I'm not screwed up? House, I am standing alone in a bar with the man who drove his car through my home. If that's not screwed up then I don't know what is."

He looked down at the floor, prompting Cuddy to lift her hand to the side of his face. She stroked the stubble on his side as she lifted his head up, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"You're not the only screwed up person in this relationship," she continued reassuringly. Her voice softened as she gently stroked his cheek, a pattern he was all too familiar with.

Her hand fell away from his face, and she settled her palm in the middle of his chest. He gripped the edge of her elbow, desperate to feel her warm skin beneath his.

"Interesting," he said as she lightly caressed the skin beneath his hands.

"What?" she asked. "That I admitted that I'm screwed up? That's not interesting, that's…"

"No," he interrupted. His hand wandered up from her elbow to the hand that was lying on his chest. He covered hers with his and dropped it to the ground, his eyes peering into her soul with every tantalizing touch.

He shrugged his shoulders before continuing. "You used present tense. Means you really haven't given up on us."

* * *

Amelia and Joey were standing at the edge of the doorway to the back room, inches apart as their heads peered around the corner.

"We shouldn't be spying on them," said Joey.

Amelia shook her head at him, "Will you be quiet? If you keep talking, they're going to hear us."

"You've been gone for over half an hour. Lisa's going to notice you went missing eventually."

"No she won't," said Amelia pointedly. "She's too wrapped up in House to notice anyone else. Literally, I mean look at them."

Joey peered his head of the doorway a bit more, his arm grazing Amelia's as he leaned over her.

He furrowed his brow as he tried to get a better look. "I can't tell if she wants to jump his bones or run away from him," said Joey in a hushed tone.

Amelia let out a small laugh. Joey shushed her, and she quickly covered her mouth to stifle the noise. Joey smiled at her inability to contain her laughter.

Once she had gathered herself, Amelia dropped her hand from her mouth. "She's so conflicted," said Amelia sadly. "I'd give anything to feel that way."

Joey shot her a confused look.

"Imagine what it must feel like to want someone so much, but know you can't be with them. It's heartbreaking and it consumes your entire soul, but you know-you know that you love that person."

Joey looked down at the floor, her words meaning more to him than she could have ever imagined.

"And I know it sounds sappy and not at all what you would expect to come out of my mouth, but there is just something so…heartbreakingly beautiful about that. You know what I mean?"

Joey's eyes met hers, and for a split second he swore he saw a tear forming in glistening green eyes. She smiled softly at him, and he reached up towards her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," he began. His eyes were still locked on hers and a defeated look had swept across her face. "I know what you mean."

* * *

**A/N: **For those of you who _actually _know how to make vodka martinis, I apologize for any mistakes I may have made. Again, I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know it was mainly fluff, but you should prepare yourselves for a little bit of drama in the coming chapters- Turkey Day is coming up.

Also, Rachel will be back next chapter. I missed her in this one, but there was no proper place to put her!

Leave a review on your way out and let me know what you think!

-Alison


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Thank you again to those of you who continue to read and review this story! I love that you're enjoying it as much as I am. I also hope that you all aren't too put off by the Amelia/Joey plot line. The story is of course, mainly about Huddy, but I always think it's fun to include some other plot lines here and there. And since there was a lack of Rachel in the last chapter, I made sure to put her in here as much as possible :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them, but sometimes it feels like they own me.

* * *

Cuddy's hands grazed the side of his cheek, his stubbly chin contrasting with the smoothness of her small, delicate hands.

"House," she whispered softly, his name rolling off her tongue as if nothing had changed between them in the past two years.

It almost felt like nothing had. Being alone with him like this had brought back memories of their torrid relationship. Some were good, some were bad, but they were memories nonetheless.

And with memories came feelings. And with feelings came urges.

And urges? Urges usually led to actions.

At least, with House it did.

She was inches away from him. In one sweeping movement, her lips could be on his. His hands could be roaming her back, rediscovering familiar territory.

All it took was one moment. One moment for to let go of all of her inhibitions, one moment for her to give in to her desires, and to him.

One moment for her to no longer be afraid of what he's done, or what he might do.

One moment for her to flip her entire world upside down.

Again.

Cuddy jumped as she heard the sound of something crashing down a few feet away.

House groaned as he turned his head to the right. Amelia and Joey were standing at the edge of the doorway to the backroom, where a box filled with plastic utensils had fallen to the ground.

"Sorry," squeaked out Amelia.

Cuddy sighed inwardly and looked up at House, her eyes filled with apology and amusement.

He smiled down at her as he released her from his arms. "I should get home," she said softly.

"Joey and I still have some stuff to clean up. I'll be there soon." He nodded his head in the direction of the door. "And get Amelia out of here before she breaks anything else."

Cuddy reached up and let her hand rest on his shoulder. She pressed her lips to the side of his cheek, running her thumb across it as her lips touched his skin.

"See you at home," she said as her feet landed back on the ground.

* * *

Cuddy yawned as she opened the door to her house. Amelia was following behind her, clutching her shoes in her hands as Cuddy fiddled with the door.

"So if I hadn't knocked over that box-which might I add, I feel terrible about, what do you think would have happened between you and House?"

Cuddy sighed; it was nearing one in the morning and she didn't have the energy to discuss this. "I don't know," she said as she yawned once more.

"Well, you two looked pretty cozy over there." Cuddy glared at her as she opened the door. "Fine, fine. I won't bring it up any more," said Amelia as they walked through the door.

They entered the house quietly, but were immediately met by Charlie.

"Hey," he said. He took Amelia by the hands and gently kissed her on her cheek. "You guys have fun?"

"You could say that," said Cuddy. "Was Rachel okay?"

"Perfect. Went to sleep right when I told her. You ready to go babe?" he asked Amelia.

Amelia nodded before looking over at Cuddy. "You okay by yourself?" she asked

"I'm fine," she reassured. "You guys go, I'll call you tomorrow."

Charlie rested his hand on the small of Amelia's back, urging her towards the door. She turned her head towards Cuddy as they walked, waving at her as she let out a yawn.

Cuddy watched to make sure they safely got into Charlie's car before turning the porch light off.

She slipped out of her shoes and trekked down the hall. She stopped at Rachel's door and opened it quietly, laying her shoes next to the door before walking in slowly.

Rachel was tucked in bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her ladybug pillow pet. Cuddy smiled softly as she looked down on her daughter.

She bent over and gently stroked her hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Cuddy winced as she saw Rachel's eyes begin to flutter open. She should have known that Rachel would wake at the slightest touch.

"Mommy?" asked Rachel groggily.

"Shh, honey it's late. Go back to sleep, I'll see you in the morning."

Rachel shook her head and hugged her pillow tighter. She looked up at Cuddy, her eyes big and wide as her bottom lip began to poke out. "I'm not tired anymore."

Cuddy smiled softly at her as Rachel desperately tried not to let out a yawn. "Oh, I think you are," she said sweetly.

Rachel scooted closer to the wall and turned on her side to face her mother. She patted the spot next to her, silently pleading with Cuddy to lie next to her.

Cuddy sighed and Rachel widened her eyes even more, causing Cuddy to give in. "Just for a few minutes, okay?" said Cuddy

Rachel nodded and Cuddy slid into bed next to her. Once Cuddy was settled, Rachel scooted up against her. Cuddy opened her arm up, allowing Rachel to snuggle up to her as she rested her head in the crook of Cuddy's shoulder. She threw her tiny arm across Cuddy's middle, and Cuddy reached behind her and began to rub her back soothingly.

"Did you go play with House tonight?" asked Rachel. Her eyes were closed, but she was still awake.

Cuddy continued to rub her back as she answered. "Yes, Amelia and I went to go see him at work."

Rachel nodded into her mother's shoulder. She yawned once more before readjusting herself to get more comfortable. She was quiet for a few more minutes, and Cuddy had hoped that she had drifted off to sleep.

"How come you and House don't kiss like you used to?" she asked. Clearly, sleep was not in the cards for the little girl.

Cuddy sighed; she'd been waiting for Rachel to start asking questions like this.

"House and I are friends, sweetie, that's it. Try and go to sleep," said Cuddy.

Rachel grabbed on to the material of Cuddy's dress and snuggled up closer to her. Cuddy turned her head and kissed her on the forehead, trying to coax her into sleep.

"You should kiss him if you want to. I think he likes it when you kiss him," murmured Rachel.

Cuddy let out a small laugh. "You think so?" she asked

Rachel nodded as she yawned once more. "Uh huh," she said. She opened her eyes and looked up at Cuddy, who was smiling down on her. "I love you Mommy," she said tiredly.

Cuddy stroked her hair as she answered, "I love you too. Let's go to sleep okay?"

Rachel tightened her grip around Cuddy's middle before allowing herself to drift off to sleep. Cuddy leaned her head back against the pillows, careful not to disturb her sleeping daughter.

She lied there for a few more minutes, grateful when she heard the sound of Rachel's breathing evening out as she fell back to sleep.

Once she was certain she would not wake again, Cuddy untangled herself from Rachel. She quickly replaced her body with Rachel's ladybug pillow pet as she gently placed her tiny arms around the stuffed animal.

Rachel stirred for a brief moment, and Cuddy paused, not daring to move. Rachel's eyes remained closed, and when she didn't make any more movements, Cuddy tiptoed softly out of her room.

She shut the door quietly and bent down to grab her shoes from the edge of the door. She walked towards her room and reached behind to unzip her dress.

She ran her hand through her hair and yawned; it had been ages since she had been out this late.

Cuddy slid out of her dress and headed towards her shower. She threw her bra and matching thong across the floor, too tired to put them in their rightful place.

Steam began to fill her bathroom; the mirror's fogged, and she could practically feel the heat irradiating from the showerhead.

She opened the sliding glass door and slipped in. Water droplets ran down her face and across her body as she stood directly underneath the nozzle.

She thought back on the night she had had, and how much she had enjoyed being around House again. If Amelia hadn't of interrupted them, she was sure she would have kissed him.

What she would have done after that, she wasn't so sure. But she would have made the first move. There was something about being wrapped up in his arms, the two of them completely alone that brought back feelings that she had been desperately trying to push out of her mind.

She realized that she couldn't have it both ways. It wasn't fair to either one of them. She either loved him, or she didn't. She either wanted to be with him, or she didn't.

It was that simple.

Except, it wasn't _actually _that simple.

Nothing ever was.

She was suddenly uncomfortable with the scolding heat that was running down her body. She stared at the knobs, contemplating if she should turn down the temperature.

She turned the middle knob, deciding a warm temperature would better suit her needs. Not too hot, not too cold.

She sighed and let out a small laugh as she made futile attempts to move the knob. Ironically enough, it was broken.

She could either have hot, or she could have cold.

_But she couldn't have both._

* * *

Cuddy panicked as she woke. She glanced over at the clock, noticing that it was nearing 10 AM. She hadn't slept this late since college. She threw the covers off of her bed and shivered. She grabbed one of her longer cardigans and slipped it on.

She paused before leaving her room. She looked around, noticing that none of House's clothes were strewn across her floor, and the other half of her bed seemed to be untouched; he must have slept in his room last night.

A wave of disappointment came over her, and she cursed herself inwardly.

She heard the sound of Rachel's laughter roaring throughout the house, and a faint smile danced across her lips. She followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen, where she was met with a surprising scene.

House and Rachel were sitting at the kitchen table, eating what appeared to be pancakes.

Rachel looked up from her plate, her face lighting up when she saw Cuddy walk in.

"Hi Mommy!" exclaimed Rachel.

She was swinging her fork around her plate. Cuddy took a better look at her, and a confused look swept across her face as she noticed the thick creamy substance that was lying atop her pancake.

House lurched his arm out in front of Rachel's plate, doing his best to hide it from Cuddy.

"Are you eating…ice cream?" she asked. Cuddy folded her arms across her chest as Rachel took a bite.

Rachel paused halfway, and House sighed as he turned his head towards her. "Put your fork in your mouth before you drop it all over yourself."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and continued eating. "You were sleeping, so I figured the rules just didn't apply," said House as he took a bite of his own pancake and ice cream concoction.

"Do you want some Mommy?" asked Rachel

Cuddy smiled at her as she walked over to the coffee pot. "I think I'll pass," she said. She reached up and grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee.

House pushed his plate in front of him and walked over to where Cuddy stood. She turned around from the coffee pot and pressed her back into the counter, leaning against it.

She nursed her cup of coffee as he took a spot next to her. "Sleep well?" he asked, surprisingly upbeat.

"You should have woken me up," replied Cuddy.

He shrugged before answering. "You seemed tired. Besides, if I had woken you up, I wouldn't have gotten to have ice cream for breakfast. That whole "When mommy's away the kiddies will play" thing really is true. "

Cuddy scoffed as she took another sip of her coffee. "When did you get home?" she asked. He eyed her suspiciously; he knew what she was really asking.

"Around three," he said. She nodded in response as she took another sip from her cup. "I figured you were already asleep."

Cuddy was about to respond when Rachel interrupted. "House?" she asked in a sing-songy voice.

House rolled his eyes and Cuddy smirked. "What do you want now?" he asked.

"You shouldn't have given her the ice cream," muttered Cuddy.

"Have you ever been to The White House? It's where Omama lives," said Rachel. She smiled at him as she bit into a spoonful of the ice cream pancake mixture that was swirled around on the plate in front of her.

"His name is Obama, sweetie," said Cuddy.

Rachel scrunched up her nose and tilted her head to the left, processing this new piece of information. She placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm before answering.

"I like Omama better," she said.

"Oh yeah?" asked House, somewhat mockingly. "Well I like Raochel better, does that mean I get to call you that?"

Cuddy scowled at him as Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "If you really want to," said Rachel.

"Stop comparing my daughter to an insect," said Cuddy.

The phone rang before House had a chance to defend his insult, and Cuddy reached over to answer it.

"Hello?" she said somewhat tiredly.

She froze and her eyes widened as she heard her mother on the other side of the phone. Her hand darted over to House's wrist, and she clutched it nervously. He winced and she shot him a wary glance.

"Hi Mom," said Cuddy. Rachel's eyes lit up and she began to wave at Cuddy, silently telling her to tell her grandmother hello.

She unclasped her hand from House's wrist and smiled apologetically at him. She nodded her head towards the other room as she placed her hand over the receiver before walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

House hobbled back over to the kitchen table and sat down next to Rachel. She pushed her half eaten plate towards him, deciding that she was done with her breakfast.

"Why did Mommy look so scared?" asked Rachel

"One should always fear those who have the intention to hurt," said House, his tone flat.

Rachel tilted her head in confusion, and House sighed; the kid was cute, but explaining everything to her was getting rather old.

"Because Mommy and Grandma don't get along like me and Mommy do?"

"Who told you that?" he asked. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, and Rachel mimicked his actions. He narrowed his eyes at her and lifted his hand to the side of his forehead.

Rachel paused before she did the same thing. He smirked at her and she smiled, a toothy grin on her face.

"Nobody," she finally answered. "But Grandma always yells at Mommy when she comes to visit. Mommy doesn't think I hear but I do sometimes. It makes her sad, I think. I don't like Mommy to be sad."

House didn't be respond. He couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain that this was the first time he had been rendered speechless by someone who could barely string an intelligent sentence together.

Rachel was clever; he'd learned that over two years ago. But he sometimes forgot that she wasn't just a playmate for him-she was a human being. She had feelings and she had emotions, even if she didn't know what to do with them, or what they all meant.

He smiled as she nonchalantly asked him, "Do you want to color?"

* * *

Cuddy sighed as she leaned back into her couch. "I'm not trying to be harsh Mom, I'm just tired of trying to explain my relationship with House to you."

"What relationship? Lisa, you don't have relationships with people who hurt you in the way that he did."

Cuddy scoffed at the irony. "Fine. I don't want to talk about this any longer, I just thought I should let you know. Rachel and I will see you at Thanksgiving."

"Oh, I don't think so," replied Arlene.

"What, are you disinviting us to Thanksgiving dinner? Because that's a new low Mom, even for you."

Cuddy could practically hear her mother rolling her eyes through the other side of the phone. "Why do you always have to be so dramatic? I was merely going to say that if House is spending so much time with you, then you should bring him along."

"You want me to bring House? To your home? For Thanksgiving?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" retorted Arlene.

Cuddy sat up straighter and brought her hand to her forehead, rubbing her temple slightly. "Why? So you and Julia can bombard him with accusations and berate the hell out of him? I don't think so."

She knew House had said he would go with her, but the idea of him in the same room as her mother and sister sent shivers down her spine—and not in a good way.

"I'll make sure your sister behaves."

"Well that's comforting," said Cuddy bitingly. "Who'll be watching you? Rachel?"

"Lisa," said Arlene seriously. "You are a grown woman, and if you think he can be better, then maybe he can. For your own sake, I hope he can. But if you think I'm going sit idly by and let him destroy your life again, you've got another thing coming. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Cuddy paused before answering, her mouth slightly open in shock. She had expected her mother to be infuriated with her, to make scathing comments on how she had hid this from her; in essence, she had expected her mother to be angry.

She hadn't expected her to be concerned.

Granted, the concern was masked by empty threats and guilt infesting comments. But it was there, nonetheless.

"I've got it under control, Mom. I'll see you next week," said Cuddy

"Just make sure you—

"Mom," interrupted Cuddy, her voice deepening as she said hissed her name.

"I was just going to ask you to bring some wine," said Arlene.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Fine," she answered. "I'll talk to you later."

She didn't wait for her mother to respond, deciding that she should hang up while she had the chance. She took a deep breath before getting up form the couch and heading back into the kitchen.

Cuddy paused as she reached the entryway to the kitchen. She leaned against the frame of the door, a slight smile appearing on her face.

House and Rachel were sitting at the kitchen table, crayons strewn across the wooden surface. Rachel was staring intently at the piece of paper in front of her, her tongue sticking out in concentration. House was sitting there quietly, pretending not to pay attention.

But every once in a while, Cuddy would hear Rachel faintly whisper the name of a color, and House would glance around the table and hand it to her.

She cleared her throat and House looked over at her and immediately dropped the crayon he had been holding.

"Rachel, why don't you go get dressed?" asked Cuddy

Rachel hopped out of her chair and closed her coloring book. "Where are we going?" she asked. Rachel's eyes lit up and she smiled up at Cuddy. "Are we taking House to see Omama?"

House turned his head towards her and raised his eyebrows, causing Rachel to quickly correct herself. "Sorry, _Obama_," she said, stressing the first two letters of his name.

She skipped out of the kitchen and into her room, humming along as she left the two alone.

Cuddy walked over to the table and began gathering up Rachel's crayons. House handed her the ones that he had been holding, and she smirked at him. He narrowed his eyes at her as he gave her the last crayon.

"You okay?" he asked, referring to the conversation Cuddy had just had with her mother.

"Everything's fine House," answered Cuddy.

"You sure? And I ask not because I'm genuinely concerned, but because I'd like to gauge your mood for the rest of the day. Plan my insults accordingly," he joked.

She let out a slight laugh before answering. "Just my mother being my mother. You're coming to Thanksgiving with us by the way."

"I'll make sure to brush up on all inappropriate comments before we go. You know, stuffing the turkey, sweet yams, things like that," he said as he nodded.

"I'm sure you'll be a hit," said Cuddy. "I'm going to take Rachel to see The White House. You can come if you want."

House nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure," he said.

"Will your leg be okay?" They hadn't discussed his drug use in a while, and if he was still taking the pills, she didn't know about it. But it was always there, in the back of her mind, taunting her.

"I'll be fine," he assured her.

Cuddy nodded and he stood up from the table. He took the two plates that were lying on the kitchen table and walked them over to the sink. He rinsed them off before placing them in the dishwasher.

She smiled at him, suddenly moved by the small gesture. He started to walk out of the kitchen when she called his name.

"House?"

He turned around to face her. Her arms were folded and her head was slightly bowing down to the ground. She lifted it up, her eyes filled with an emotion that he couldn't quite read.

She smiled softly at him. "Thank you," she said.

He shrugged his shoulders in response, "It's just a plate," he said.

"No," she murmured. "It's not."

* * *

Rachel was standing at the gate, her tiny fingers wrapped around the iron clad fencing as she stood on her tiptoes, convinced that if she were maybe a few inches taller, she would be able to get a better look.

House and Cuddy were standing a few feet behind her, keeping a watchful eye. Because of the oncoming holiday, there were several tourists milling around the area.

House was twisting his cane around on the ground, pretending not to be interested in the sight before him. The wind whipped, the crisp air taking Cuddy by shock. She pulled her coat tighter to her chest and crossed her arms; it was surprisingly cold for an autumn day in Virginia.

House turned his head towards her as he snaked his arm around her waist. She bowed her head as she allowed him to pull her closer.

She was so tired of fighting him; she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to last.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, House muttered, "You're lucky. The little smurf is easily entertained."

His hand was casually running up and down her back and she smiled softly; partly at his touch, partly at her daughter. "I know. I have a feeling that in ten years or so, karma is going to come back and bite me in the ass."

"It won't miss, that's for sure," he added suggestively.

She shook her head in laughter as they settled back into silence.

All of a sudden, Rachel had quickly straightened up and turned her head to the right. Cuddy watched in horror as she quickly let go of the fence and planted her feet firmly on the ground, as if she were ready to bolt off.

Cuddy disentangled herself from House, who had just caught on to what was about to occur.

She took approximately three steps when she breathed a sigh of relief. Rachel had run into the arms of Amelia, who had quickly swooped her up in her arms.

Cuddy brought one hand to her chest, her heart beating a million miles a minute. House had caught up with her and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her frazzled nerves.

Cuddy smiled back at him before heading over to greet Amelia. He hung back behind her, deciding to give her space.

"Mommy, look who's here!" said Rachel excitedly, her head resting on Amelia's shoulder as Amelia carried her over.

"I spotted you guys on my way home so I thought I would stop by." Amelia set Rachel on the ground, causing Rachel to give her a pouty look. "Sorry honey, you're getting too big for me to carry you."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and folded her arms, "Maybe you're not as strong as you think you are," she responded rather sassily.

Cuddy's mouth opened up slightly as she let out a bewildered laugh. Rachel giggled as Amelia responded, "I think someone's been hanging around House too much," she said.

Rachel smiled widely at the sound of his name, and she turned her head towards him. He was out of earshot, but he was fairly certain his name had been mentioned.

Rachel always seemed to get this strange look of love and confusion on her face whenever he was talked about in front of her.

She scurried off in his direction, deciding that it wasn't fair for him to be alone. Cuddy made sure she made it over there, and House nodded gently at her.

She smiled as he let Rachel take his hand.

Cuddy turned to face Amelia, a look of surprise coming across her face a she took in her appearance.

"You look nice," she said.

Amelia's normally straight hair had been curled and pulled back into a ponytail, her locks loosely hanging down over her shoulder. She was wearing candy red skinny jeans that had been tucked into a pair of riding boots. Her fitted grey sweater hugged her small frame, and a printed scarf was slung around her neck.

Her black trench hit right at her waist, and she pulled it closer to her, all of a sudden embarrassed by her ensemble. "Don't look so surprised," she said.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows, clearly unsatisfied with the answer she had been given. Amelia rolled her eyes before continuing. "Joey took me to brunch," she relented.

"Did he?" asked Cuddy, somewhat condescendingly

"Stop looking at me like that," responded Amelia

Cuddy folded her arms and tilted her head. "Like what?" she asked

"Like I'm a terrible person. It's just brunch."

"I never said you were a terrible person," said Cuddy sweetly, a smile dancing across her lips.

Amelia scoffed. "You didn't have to. That cute little eye roll-slash-head tilt thing you do said it for you. Do we need to discuss where House sleeps at night, or are we done with this conversation?"

Cuddy pursed her lips as she playfully glared at Amelia. "One day we're both going to have to deal with our issues," she muttered.

Amelia let out a small laugh, "Not today I hope," she answered.

Cuddy glanced over at House and Rachel. She had him by the hand and was swaying back and forth, talking his ear off. House wasn't looking at her, and most people would have thought he was ignoring the little girl in front of him.

But Cuddy knew that he was paying attention. She could see a small glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

She smiled widely at him, and her heart practically leaped out of her chest when he smiled back. "No," she answered Amelia, her eyes still locked on House. "Definitely not today."

* * *

**A/N: **That's all for now! Leave a review on your way out, if you so wish. Thanksgiving is up next. Drama is sure to ensue.

Thanks for reading!

-Alison


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **I'm not quite sure why, but this one took a while for me to crank out-and I'm still not 100 percent satisfied with the outcome. But I figured I might as well just go ahead and post it, and you all can just decide for yourself :D

**Disclaimer: **It's really difficult to come up with something witty each chapter, so I'm going to keep it simple today: I don't own them.

* * *

House was lying on Cuddy's bed, his head resting against the headboard as his legs were sprawled out in front of him. She was sitting to his right, her knees curled up against her chest.

Her skintight yoga pants clung tightly to her legs, and an oversized white V-neck t-shirt hung loosely on her body. House had slipped into his flannel pajama pants hours ago, not bothering to change the t-shirt he had been wearing all day.

It was the night before Thanksgiving, and the two had arrived at the unspoken agreement that House would sleep in Cuddy's room that night-not that the arrangement was any different than most nights.

But still, Cuddy liked to pretend that she had _some _restraint left when it came to Gregory House.

They had put Rachel to bed hours ago, and House knew that he should let her get some sleep. But for some reason, neither of them were willing to turn off the bedside lamp.

They'd spent most of the night just talking, enjoying the other's company. Cuddy was clearly nervous about the coming morning, and House was doing his best to take her mind off of it. He mainly talked about Wilson, and Cuddy let him, adding the additional witty comment or soft smile when she deemed it necessary.

House would never admit it, but the holiday made him miss his best friend more than usual. Not because he had a soft spot for the day Americans celebrated the mass murdering of Native Americans, but because more often than not, House was alone during the holidays.

But somehow, he always ended up being alone with Wilson.

Cuddy smiled as he spoke. "One time he tried to convince me that he was sleeping with you."

She laughed as the memories came rushing back to her.

"He wanted to prove that I was into you by making me jealous. But really all he did was confirm my suspicion that only self-loathing women slept with him. And you hate yourself sometimes, but you don't hate yourself _that _much," he joked.

"I remember," she said. House looked at her skeptically, and she continued. "He came to my office one night and confessed his "feelings" for me. By that time I had figured it out, so I asked him out. Then suggested we just go ahead and have sex in front of your office, just in case you hadn't gotten the point already."

House smirked and Cuddy laughed as she stretched her legs out in front of her. Her hands fell to the edge of the bed, and she leaned back as she spoke.

"He was completely mortified," she finished.

House turned his head towards her; her hair was falling down in front of her face, and she looked more relaxed than she had in years.

"You ever think about going back?" he asked, shifting the conversation to a more serious note.

Cuddy pushed a strand of hair out of her face, tilting her head and swallowing hard before answering. "To Princeton?" she asked

He nodded at her, and she continued. "I did at first. Not so much anymore," she answered.

House bowed his head and ran a hand through his hair. Cuddy leaned forward and moved on to her stomach. She laid one arm in front of her, bending the other and resting her chin in her palm.

He smiled down at her as she spoke.

"About eight months after I moved here, I had this case, and for the life of me I couldn't figure it out." She cleared her throat and tilted her head towards him. "I thought the patient was going to die. And I kept thinking that if I were back in Princeton, I would have found the answer. Because I would have had you." Her voice had grown softer, and she had practically whispered the last part.

"You figure it out?" he asked. His eyes met hers and after a few moments, she darted them away, looking down at her hands.

She lifted her head and let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I did. You're never going to believe what it was."

House raised his eyebrows at her and she straightened up a bit, looking him dead in the eye. "It was lupus."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, "It's _never _lupus," he said.

"Well this time it was," she fired back. "And I actually picked up the phone to call you when I remembered that you….

"That I was in jail?" finished House.

"Yeah," she said sadly. "That you were in jail. And that's when I knew that I'd made the right decision."

"Because you'd forgotten that I was rotting in jail?"

"No," she said as she playfully shoved the leg closest to her. "It made me realize that I was no longer angry with you." Her voice softened as she continued. "It was the first time that I thought of you and smiled, as opposed to thinking of you and wanting to shut down completely."

House sighed and slowly inched closer towards her. "You really should hate me," he said softly.

"I know," she whispered. "And I tried. You have no _idea_ how hard I tried." She tilted her head back and her hair flipped behind her. She looked up at him before continuing. "But I couldn't do it."

House's hand found it's way to her back, and he began to lightly move it up and down. Their eyes locked, and he leaned his head toward hers.

She sat up, meeting him halfway. His lips tentatively grazed hers, and she placed her hand on the base of his neck, pulling him closer.

His hand moved to her waist, gripping the material of her t-shirt as their lips crashed together.

Cuddy parted her lips slightly, allowing his tongue to mesh against hers. She gripped the nape of his neck, her fingers running through the stray hairs that lay there.

His hand started to push her t-shirt up, and she instantly pulled away from him. She took a deep breath and placed her hand on his chest. She bit down on her lip and bowed her head, refusing to look him in the eye.

He sighed as he backed away from her, lifting his hand to his forehead as he rubbed it gently.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" she whispered, unable to finish the sentence. Her head was still bowed, but she had folded her arms across her chest.

He reached his arm across to turn off the bedside lamp. The room was completely dark, but he could still make out her silhouette.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing it in attempts to console her.

"Goodnight Cuddy," he said.

He got underneath the covers and rested his head against the pillow. A few minutes later, he felt her mimic his actions.

He desperately wanted to pull her closer to him, to feel her body up against his, but he decided against it.

He knew her mind was spinning, but he didn't say a word. They simply lied there, staring up at the wall as they attempted to let sleep overcome them.

He heard her sigh as she turned on her side, facing him. Her eyes were even with his shoulder.

She decided that was as close as she was allowing herself to get.

* * *

"Will you relax? You're going to kill us all if you keep driving like that," said House. "Which would actually be a bit ironic, given the circumstances."

Cuddy glanced over at him, her eyes fuming. "This is not the time for jokes like that, House. In fact, I would appreciate it if you could keep your jokes to a minimum."

They were about fifteen minutes outside of Princeton, and reality was beginning to set in with Cuddy.

The thought of being alone in a room with House, her mother, and Julia made her stomach churn. She didn't even want to _begin _to think about what had transpired between her and House the night before. He hadn't mentioned it to her that morning, and she wasn't going to bring it up.

Not today, at least.

Her eyes moved to the rearview mirror and she checked on Rachel, who was sitting contently in the backseat. Her head was resting on her ladybug pillow pet, and she was pulling at the threads of the stuffed animal.

Cuddy bit her lip nervously as she turned her head towards House, speaking softly. "Remind me why this is a good idea, again?"

House raised his eyebrows at her, an amused look on her face. "It's not," he answered.

Cuddy sighed as she turned her attention back to the road. "If you want," continued House, "we could drop off mini-me back there and then hit the road. Find a bar, preferably one that's attached to a sleazy motel. Or a five star one. That's more your speed anyway."

"We're practically here now," answered Cuddy.

"That doesn't answer my question," he fired back.

Cuddy pursed her lips. "That's because ridiculous suggestions don't require answers."

"So we're just going to ignore the fact that your lips attacked mine last night?" he asked. "You'll notice I phrased this one as a question."

Rachel's head perked up and Cuddy sighed. "Mommy," she began, "Did you and House kiss?" she asked, her voice going up an octave as she spoke the last word.

"Let's just get through today," Cuddy directed at House. Rachel sighed as her question was ignored.

Rachel leaned forward, her head bobbing between the two seats up front, "I told you he liked it when you kissed him," she whispered.

House smirked and Cuddy closed her eyes for a brief moment as she took a deep breath.

"Smart kid," he said. He turned his head back toward Rachel, who was grinning up at him. "Sit back before we find out if seatbelts really are God's way of instilling Natural Selection upon us."

Rachel furrowed her brow, confused by his words before finally leaning back against her seat. She zoned back in on her pillow pet, tugging at the worn frays.

Cuddy pulled into her mother's driveway. She grudgingly put the car in park, her hand lingering on the gearshift for a few moments.

She motioned for her purse at the bottom of House's feet, and he silently handed it to her; he was familiar with the routine. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and gently slathered the deep red color onto her lips.

She ran her hand through her perfectly blown out hair, and House sighed. "You're stalling," he observed.

She glared over at him before slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Grab the wine," she directed.

Cuddy slid out of the car and opened up the door for Rachel. She held out her hand and Rachel latched onto it as she hopped down. She paused as her tiny feet hit the pavement and she glanced back to her seat.

"Can I bring Lady?" she asked, referring to her ladybug pillow pet that had kept her entranced for the past three hours.

"You named your ladybug "Lady"? I'm sure that took a lot of thought," said House.

"You're named after the place you sleep at night," said Rachel defensively.

"Okay, that's enough," interrupted Cuddy. "Rachel, you can bring Lady, but she can't sit at the table while we eat, okay?" Rachel smiled widely as she let go of her mother's hand and pulled the stuffed animal to her chest.

"And you," she directed at House, "Please try and behave. Keep your mouth shut if you have to."

"Oh, " he began suggestively, "You know I'm no good at that."

Cuddy folded her arms tightly across her chest and raised her eyebrows slightly at him. "Relax, it's going to be fine," he said seriously.

Rachel walked up next to House and grabbed his hand. He sighed as he looked down at her, and she began to swing his hand back and forth.

Their interaction brought a slight smile to Cuddy's face, and her shoulders dropped in relaxation. House handed her the bottle of wine that was in his other hand, and she took it, tucking it under her arm.

He placed his hand soothingly on the small of her back, and her breath hitched at his touch; he smirked as she shook her head at him. He guided her to the front door, Rachel in tow.

Cuddy took a deep breath as she rang the doorbell. A few moments later, Arlene opened the door.

Arlene opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but quickly shut it, deciding against it. Whatever it was, Cuddy was sure it was going to be in poor taste.

Rachel's eyes darted back and forth between her mother and grandmother before finally breaking the silence. "Hi Grandma," she said excitedly.

"Hello dear," she said, smiling down at her. Cuddy could practically taste the insincerity in her voice.

"Greg," said Arlene flatly. She was glaring at him, and he glared back as he nodded at her.

Cuddy cleared her throat as she placed her hands on her mother's shoulders, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Mom," she said, greeting her.

Arlene stepped aside and Rachel whizzed past her, eager to go play with her cousins.

"Well come in, don't just stand they're like idiots," said Arlene.

She walked away, heading towards the kitchen. House and Cuddy slowly followed, lagging behind as they walked.

House hand was still resting gently on her back. She turned her head, whispering softly, "You couldn't at least say hello?" she asked.

"You told me to keep my mouth shut," he murmured defensively.

Cuddy slipped out of her coat, causing House to drop his hand from her back. She hung it on the knob directly in front of her, sighing in discontent.

"You have got to relax," he said, doing his best to reassure her.

Cuddy turned to face him, smiling softly at his futile attempts to calm her down.

"Where did the little smurf run off to?" he asked.

"She went to find Jackson, I think." Cuddy let out a slight laugh as she continued. "She's probably lecturing him on what type of dinosaur he would be if he'd lived during their time."

House was about to respond when they were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps coming towards them.

Cuddy lifted her head to find Julia walking towards them, a heavy scowl and determination in her face. Cuddy opened her mouth slightly, bracing herself for the words that were about to spill out of Julia's mouth.

Julia marched straight up to House, ignoring her sister's questioning looks.

House matched her glare for glare, and she paused, as if she were reconsidering what she was about to do.

Cuddy gasped as Julia slightly lifted her hand, slapping House across the face.

"Oh my god, "said Cuddy as she heard the stinging sound of Julia's hand connecting with his cheek.

Julia quickly backed down and took a deep breath, shocked at her own behavior. House clenched his jaw and lifted his hand to his face, gently rubbing the already reddened skin.

Cuddy placed her hand on his arm, bending down as she leaned closer to get a better look. "Are you okay?" she asked as she gently rubbed his arm. When he didn't respond, she turned her head towards Julia, glaring questioningly at her.

"That, " began House as he stood up straighter, "is not what I was expecting."

"Yes well, random acts of violence tend to take most people by shock," replied Julia rather smugly.

Cuddy brought a hand to her forehead, rubbing it slightly. "I think I need a drink," she murmured.

"What is going on in here?" Arlene walked back towards the doorway, shaking her head as a scowl formed on her face.

"Your daughter went all Don Corleone on me," said House. He turned towards Julia, whose arms were folded across her chest. "I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking."

"House," hissed Cuddy, begging him not to make a scene.

Arlene pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes pointedly. "Well knowing you, I'm sure you deserved it." She smiled icily as she continued, "Come into the dining room, we're about to eat."

Julia placed her hand on Cuddy's forearm, squeezing it gently as she silently apologized. She diverted her eyes from House's gaze as she headed towards the dining room.

Cuddy turned her head back towards House and lifted her hand to his cheek, gently stroking it. "Let me see, " she said.

He rolled his eyes in attempts to shrug her off. "I'm fine, really. I've been slapped by angry women plenty of times," he said.

"That doesn't surprise me," she muttered. She let her fingers linger on his face for just a few moments before dropping her hand back to her side.

"We should go before your mother comes back for round two," he joked.

She smiled at him as she placed her hand on his the back of his shoulder, gently pushing him towards the direction of the dining room.

"Maybe we can get through the next few hours without any mention of assault," she said in a hopeful manner.

He glanced skeptically at her, "You really believe that?" he asked.

Cuddy sighed, as her eyes met his, "No, I don't."

* * *

Barely a word had been spoken since they sat down.

House and Cuddy were sitting next to each other, silently picking at their plates. Julia and her husband Matthew were sitting directly across, while Arlene was sitting at the head of the table.

Rachel and her three cousins, Jackson, Olvia, and Alex, we're sitting at a smaller table in the next room over.

Every once in a while, Cuddy would crane her neck to the left so she could make sure that Rachel was actually eating something.

A fork dropped onto the table, and everyone immediately lifted their heads as the rather uncomfortable silence was interrupted.

Cuddy cleared her throat before taking an unusually long sip of wine.

"That's it," said Julia, slamming her own glass on the table. "Is anyone going to address the elephant in the room?"

"Apparently you are," muttered House.

Cuddy shot him an unimpressed look before turning her head towards Julia. "This is hardly the time to discuss this."

"When else are we going to discuss it, Lisa? You didn't even tell me that you were back in touch with him."

"Please," began House, "Continue to discuss me as if I'm not in the room."

"House, shut up," ordered Cuddy.

Matthew got up from the table and pushed his chair in. "I'm going to take the kids outside,"

Cuddy glanced over at him, thanking him silently.

"What did you expect would happen, Lis? Did you think you could just bring him back here as if nothing happened?"

Arlene sighed, "Julia honey, please stop yelling. It's giving me a headache."

"Don't tell me you're okay with this," said Julia, turning her head towards her mother.

"Lisa is going to do whatever she wants, no matter the consequences. I don't know why you're so surprised."

House turned towards Cuddy, a look of bewilderment on his face. "They're not serious, are they?"

"I'll handle this," she said.

House ignored her as he continued. His eyes darted over to Julia, who was staring him down.

"If you've got a problem with me, have the balls to talk to me about it. Don't sit there and try to make her feel guilty because she doesn't feel comfortable talking to you about certain things."

"House please," Cuddy pleaded. She placed her hand on his thigh as she closed her eyes in frustration.

"You know I would," began Julia with a hint of laughter in her voice, "But I'm afraid you might do something really drastic like drive your car through my home. Oh wait."

Underneath the table, Cuddy was clenching the material of House's jeans. He shifted in his seat, knowing that she was getting upset at how the meal was progressing.

"Oh that's a good one. Really, I'm impressed. I bet you've been waiting all day to say that," said House.

"Try two years," Julia fired back.

Cuddy threw her hands on the edge of the table, pushing her chair outwards. "Excuse me," she said, standing up from the table.

House dropped his head when he saw the tear forming in her left eye.

"Where are you going?" asked Arlene, clearly frustrated with her daughter's imminent departure.

"Show's over," said Cuddy. "I'm not going to sit here and let the two of you blatantly disprove of the way I live my life."

She began to walk away, the clicking sound of her heels filling the now silent room as she walked. She turned to face them once more, throwing her hands up in slight amusement.

"And you wonder why I never tell you anything," said Cuddy.

Julia took a deep breath before resting her elbows on the table, and Arlene gingerly sipped on her glass of wine.

House gave her a few minutes before getting up to follow her.

* * *

Cuddy had wandered into one of the downstairs guest rooms. She was sitting on the bed, her back facing the door, hands folded in her lap.

She heard him come in but didn't acknowledge his presence. He limped over and sat down next to her, and she turned her head to face him.

Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying.

"I still can't believe your sister slapped me," he said.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh and House smiled, glad he could bring a smile to her face.

"I'm surprised my mother didn't," replied Cuddy. "I was honestly expecting her to be worse."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm not exactly fond of them either. I say we avoid all future contact. Get out while we still can," he said, half-joking.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this," she said. Her eyes were filled with regret and sadness, as if she were apologizing for so much more than what had just transpired.

He turned his head to face hers, their eyes locking. He placed his hand over hers, his thumb caressing her skin softly.

"It's not your fault," he murmured.

She smiled sadly at him before lacing her fingers through his already entangled hand.

They were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, and Cuddy turned her head to find Julia standing there, her arms folded across her chest and her head bowed.

"Can I talk to Lisa for a second?" she asked. "Preferably alone."

House look at Cuddy, who nodded her head towards the door. "Go check on Rachel for me?" she asked him.

House disentangled his hand from her and stood up. He limped over to the door, where Julia backed away, letting him walk past her wordlessly.

Cuddy got up from the bed, deciding that she was no longer comfortable sitting down.

Julia walked towards her slowly, an embarrassed look on her face. "I'm sorry for…acting the way I did earlier, but Lisa, you have to understand that I'm worried about you."

Cuddy crossed her arms and sighed, "You don't have to worry about me, or about House. You especially don't have to worry about House _and _me."

"He's going to hurt you Lisa, and I don't mean physically. He's done it before and he'll do it again."

"You don't know that," responded Cuddy.

"I do know that. And deep down I think you know it too. And when it happens, I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces for you again."

Cuddy uncrossed her arms, a defeated look on her face. "Julia…"

"I can't do it Lisa. I love you, and you are without a doubt, the smartest person I know. But this…it isn't smart. I just don't want you to be miserable again."

"Do I look miserable to you?" Cuddy's voice grew stronger as she continued. "Honestly, tell me. Do I look miserable?"

"No, but that's…"

"Look," began Cuddy seriously. "House is a lot of things. And he's done a lot of terrible things to me. But I've done a lot of terrible things to him too. And I am so _sick _of feeling guilty for loving someone."

Julia opened her mouth to protest, but Cuddy quickly hushed her. Cuddy's eyes softened as she continued. "And I know you don't understand it. Hell, most days I don't understand it. But that's the way it is. How would you feel if I told you that you couldn't be with Matthew? How would you react?"

"That is completely different," said Julia

"Maybe so. But you love him, right?" asked Cuddy

Julia's tone softened, and she closed her eyes briefly. "Of course I do," she answered.

"Then please hear me when I say this: You have nothing to worry about when it comes to House."

"But I do worry. After what he did, I'm always going to worry."

Cuddy sighed as she took her sister's hand. Julia smiled down at her, and Cuddy's voice lowered to a whisper. "He needs me Julia. And I need him. And I would rather be miserable with him than miserable without him."

"That…is a terrible outlook to have on life. Lisa, do you even hear yourself? It doesn't have to be him or nothing," said Julia, her voice filled with sadness.

"Then how come it is?"

Julia didn't answer, and Cuddy didn't offer up anything else.

There was nothing left to say.

* * *

About an hour later, they were back on the road. Rachel had fallen asleep about fifteen minutes into the drive, completely oblivious to the day's events.

Cuddy 's eyes were fixed one the road ahead of her, and House, who hadn't said a word since they'd gotten back in the car, was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and his head pressed against the headrest.

He turned his head slightly, taking in her appearance. She looked tired and stressed, but every once in a while her eyes would gaze to the rearview mirror, and she would smile at her sleeping daughter, and he swore she never looked more beautiful.

He sat up, and she turned her head towards him slightly; partly because she had heard his shifting, and partly because she had felt his eyes on her.

"It would probably be easier if I just left. Go back to the whole dead guy on a bike thing."

Cuddy looked over at him, the color draining from her face at his realization. She sighed before answering. "Probably," she said.

He smirked at her disappointment, "But that's not what you want, is it?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "It's not."

House nodded as he spoke. "Glad we're on the same page then. Get off on this exit," he said, his tone remaining the same.

"What? Why?" asked Cuddy, confused by the sudden change in direction.

"Just do it," he said. Cuddy sighed as she turned the car, exiting off of the highway. "You'll see when we get there."

After about five minutes, she knew exactly where they were going. But she'd let House continue to give her directions, knowing that he was looking for something to keep his mind occupied.

She parked the car outside of the gated area, and a sudden wave of sadness came over her. House hadn't gotten out of the car yet, his feet practically glued to the floor mat below him.

"Want me to go with you?" she asked softly.

"No, I should do this alone," he answered. "Besides, Rachel is sleeping. No point in waking her up."

Cuddy nodded as he finally made movements to get out. His hand was paused on the door handle when she spoke again, her voice soft and comforting.

"House," she said, looking over at him. He didn't turn around, but he knew the look that she had on her face. "Take all the time you need."

He nodded as he got out of the car. He shut the door slowly and planted his feet on the ground.

He cursed himself as he began to walk the thirty or so yards that were between him and Wilson's grave.

* * *

**A/N: **That's all for now! Next chapter will pick up right where this one left off, so you have that to look forward to! Leave a review and let me know what you think!

-Alison


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **And we're back! Thank you so much for all the kind words regarding the last chapter. This chapter picks up exactly where the last one left off. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own very little in my life, including these two characters.

* * *

House was unusually calm. His heart was beating at a normal pace, the pain in his leg was somewhat manageable, and his mind was relatively free of thought.

The damp grass sunk beneath his shoes as he walked, and he swallowed hard when the gravestone was in sight.

The sight of his name felt like a slap to the face. He never thought two words could make him feel so small.

House took a deep breath as he took a few steps closer. He placed his hand on top of the grey headstone, running his hand against the edge. He paused, gripping it slightly as he sat down next to it.

The pain in his leg began to flare.

He haphazardly threw his cane on the ground as he leaned against the cold surface.

"Hey Wilson," he murmured. "This feels weird. Mainly because you can't answer me back. Also because I'm practically sitting on you."

A small smile crossed his lips as he swallowed once more.

"Cuddy came to find me. I guess I have you to thank for that." He sighed as he bowed his head, his voice growing softer. "I thought I'd lost her for good Wilson. I still might."

His hands dug into the ground as his fingers gripped the blades of grass beneath him; he was desperate to find something for his hands to do.

"She's good though. The city suits her. She's happy, and I'm…" House shook his head and sighed. "I'm afraid I'm going to ruin that for her. I've screwed up her life enough as it is."

He turned his head to the left, his eyes narrowing. "You know, I could really use some of your useless advice right about now."

He was quiet for a few minutes. He didn't quite know what to say, but he wasn't ready to leave yet. When the silence became too much for him, he spoke again.

"Cuddy's got one weird kid." He smiled as he began to explain Rachel's antics. "She's obsessed with this Red Panda at the Zoo. She even named him and is constantly drawing pictures for him. But she's interesting. Smart. Cuddy's done a good job with her. I don't know why I'm surprised though. I always told her she would be a good mother. Except for those times I told her she would suck at it," he joked.

He sighed as he continued to pick at the grass beneath him.

"I'm not using anymore. I stopped after you…" his voice drifted off, unable to finish the sentence. "The vicodin wasn't helping, and then Cuddy showed up. I'm trying Wilson. I'm just not sure it's going to be enough. I'm not sure it's ever going to be enough."

* * *

Cuddy sighed as she glanced out the window. House had disappeared into the night, and she knew she should give him his space, but she was worried about him.

He said he was coming back, but there was a small part of her that thought he was just going to disappear again. And that small part was screaming at her to go find him.

But the rational part of her brain was keeping her glued to her seat.

She turned her head and looked at Rachel, who was sprawled out in the backseat, her head resting comfortably on her pillow pet. She smiled softly before reaching into her purse and digging out her blackberry.

She sifted through email for about five minutes, but quickly lost interest. She checked on Rachel once again, and when she was sure that the little girl was sound asleep, she quietly got out of the car.

The chilling air came as quite a shock, and her tiny body shivered in the bitter cold. She pulled her coat tighter against her frame, leaning against the door as she dialed the numbers on her phone.

"I made out with House last night and Julia slapped him across the face the minute she saw him. How was your Thanksgiving?" asked Cuddy hurriedly.

"Charlie asked me to marry him," answered Amelia.

"No," said Cuddy, her eyes wide with shock.

"In front of his entire family. With his _Grandmother's _ring," she said.

"What did you say?"

Amelia sighed, and Cuddy could sense the girl's apprehension.

"I told him I had to think about it. I'm on the way back to the city now; I took the first train out. Distract me," she ordered. "Tell me more about you and House."

Cuddy sighed and pulled her coat even tighter around her body. "There's not much to tell. He kissed me, I let him, and I pulled away. Nothing that hasn't happened before," said Cuddy.

"You should have at least had sex with him afterwards. You know that puts you in a better mood," she joked.

"Yes, because that worked out _so_ well the last time."

Amelia laughed on the other side of the line, and Cuddy smiled; she was happy she could relieve her of her troubles, even if it was just for a few moments.

"So other than House getting slapped, how was your Thanksgiving? You should have seen the table at Charlie's Grandmother's. I swear to god it was like I was on the inside of a J. Crew catalogue," said Amelia.

"Well there were no marriage proposals, but there was yelling. Lots of yelling. Julia was on a roll, my mother was absolutely no help, and House all but encouraged it," said Cuddy as she sighed in discontent.

"What's the next holiday? Christmas? I say we skip it altogether."

Cuddy closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. "I'm not sure we'll make it to Christmas," she muttered.

"Lisa…"

"I'm worried he's going to leave," she said softly. "He joked about it earlier, but that... that's what House does. He uses sarcasm and games to show you what he's really thinking," she finished.

"And you think he's decided that he's what? Better off without you?"

"No," said Cuddy definitively. She bought her hand to her forehead and lightly subbed her temple. "I think he's decided that I'm better off without him."

Amelia was silent for a few moments, and Cuddy bit the bottom of her lip, a worried look across her face.

"Are you?" Amelia asked softly

Cuddy took a deep breath, moving her hand from her forehead to the inside of her coat pocket. "No," she said. "I'm not."

"You should tell him, Lisa. And I know it feels like we have this conversation every day, but if he's having doubts…

"I know," she said, cutting her off. "And I will, just not right now."

Cuddy heard the faint sound of House's footsteps coming towards her, and she let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding in.

"I have to go," she quickly told Amelia. "But call me when you get in, okay?"

"I will. Say hi to Rachel for me."

Cuddy nodded and was about to hang up the phone when Amelia added, "And Lisa? Please talk to him. If you're feeling this way there's no telling what's going on in his mind."

"I really hate that you're a psychologist," said Cuddy before quickly hanging up the phone.

She slipped her phone into her pocket and folded her arms across her waist, waiting for House to reach the car.

His head was bowed and his limp was more noticeable than it had been in weeks; her heart sunk when she realized that the events of today and their current location weren't doing anything to help his situation.

She smiled sadly at him as he came closer. He silently approached her, and she gently placed her hand on his forearm. He looked up at her; her eyes were full of concern.

"You okay?" she whispered

House nodded, not wanting to talk about it. "Fine," he said. Cuddy looked at him, defeated with his disengagement from her. He placed his hand over the one that was wrapped around his forearm, and his eyes met hers.

He laced their hands together, and she smiled softly at him. "We should go," he said.

She nodded as she released her hand from his and slowly opened the car door. She took a deep breath as she watched him walk around to the other side.

* * *

About two hours later, they had arrived back home. They hadn't spoken since they'd gotten back into the car, which was making Cuddy all the more nervous.

She sighed as she turned off the car and got out, walking around to the back to get Rachel.

House limped behind Cuddy, following her to the car door. Cuddy leaned into the car and stroked the side of Rachel's head, trying to coax her out of her deep slumber. She sighed when the little girl made no movements.

House smirked as Cuddy groaned, lifting Rachel into her arms. Cuddy soothingly ran her hand up and down Rachel's back, and House reached in front of her, grabbing the pillow pet that Rachel had been lying on.

Cuddy smiled graciously at him, and he rolled his eyes as he tucked it underneath his arm. Cuddy balanced Rachel in one arm as she handed House her purse, silently telling him to dig out her house keys.

He wordlessly took her purse from her hands, allowing her to support Rachel with both arms.

He limped up to her front door, and she followed; sometimes it amazed her at just how in sync they were.

He was constantly in her head and she was constantly in his, but somehow they still managed to surprise one another.

House opened the door for her, stepping aside to let her go first.

Cuddy walked in and breathed a sigh of relief, the events of the day finally catching up with her.

She looked over at House before whispering "I'm going to put her to bed."

He nodded as he set his cane against the wall next to the front door and headed towards the couch.

House sighed as he realized he was still holding Rachel's ridiculous stuffed animal. He paused for a moment, trying to decide what to do with the ladybug pillow pet that had somehow found its way into his hands. He rolled his eyes as he walked back towards Rachel's room.

Cuddy had managed to change Rachel into her pajamas without waking her. She was tucking her in when she heard House approaching, the stuffed animal hanging in his hand by his side.

Her face quickly softened as she watched House walk over to Rachel's bed and tentatively place the stuffed animal between her small arms.

"Oh shut up," he muttered towards Cuddy. She smiled at him as she placed her hand lovingly on the back of shoulder, running it up and down his back.

They made their way out to the living room and Cuddy sunk into the sofa; it wasn't late by any means, but she felt like the day had gone on forever.

House sat down next to her. He smiled as she took one of the throw pillows that was lying next to her and placed it on his lap. She slipped out of her shoes and rested her head on the pillow, plopping her feet up on couch.

House draped his arm across her middle and she sighed. She lifted her arm up, placing it over his. Her fingers danced up and down his forearm, and she turned her head towards her.

He looked down at her and smiled a smile that he solely reserved for her. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I'm a drug addict, Cuddy," he whispered.

Her fingers paused, but she didn't tear her eyes away from him. "I know," she answered sadly.

"It doesn't matter how clean I've been, or how clean I am. I am always one step away from falling back into hold habits. You have to know that before we go any further."

"I do know that," she said. "I'm not naïve House, I know that there is always the risk of you—

"I don't think you do," he interrupted. "Sure, you know that addicts relapse, but you can't accept the fact that it might happen to me. You _couldn't _accept the fact that it happened to me."

Cuddy darted her eyes away and sat up, disentangling herself from him. She turned, resting her back on the arm of the couch so she could face him.

He turned his head towards her, and she swore she had never seen him look so afraid.

She took his hand in hers before she spoke. "You deserved a second chance. I just…I wasn't sure I was the person who should give it to you."

He gazed skeptically at her, and she continued. "You deserve someone who is going to be there with you every step of the way. I wasn't sure I could do that."

"You weren't sure, or you aren't sure?" he asked. "Because I gotta tell you, those are two very different things."

She gripped his hand, willing herself not to let the tears that were forming fall down her face. "All I know is that my life is better with you in it. It would be so much easier if it weren't, but it's not. It's just not."

He sighed as he jerked his hand away from hers. "That still doesn't answer my question."

"House—

"I can't go down this road with you again. You're either in, or you're out." He stood up from the couch and limped towards the door. He grabbed his cane and turned to face her.

Her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she had a defeated look on her face. "House, please just talk to me," she pleaded.

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to promise you that I'm never going to take another pill again? That I'm always going to me the person you need me to be? Because I can't promise you either of those things."

She wiped a tear from her cheek and stood up, walking towards him. She folded her arms and bowed her head before looking back up at him.

Her eyes were glossed with tears, and House ran a hand through his hair; he hadn't meant to upset her.

"I just want you to be you." He opened his mouth to correct her, but she quickly hushed him, knowing where he was going. "And not the you that you think I need, or that I want. We spent the better half of our relationship trying so hard to be the person that we thought the other person needed, and somewhere along the way, we stopped being ourselves."

His fingers gripped the handle of his cane, while one hand was placed on the doorknob.

Her eyes darted over to the door. She squared her shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. "I know that you're drug addict. But you shouldn't let it define you. There's so much more to you than that," she added softly.

He nodded. "Maybe so," he said. His eyes met hers as his hand began to turn the knob. "But that still doesn't change anything. And you still haven't answered my question."

He didn't say anything else, and she cringed at the sound of the door closing behind him.

She hoped that it was the only door that he'd closed on her.

* * *

Cuddy was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea as she tried to calm her nerves. House had been gone for over an hour, and she hadn't heard a word from him.

She didn't even know where he was.

She'd restrained herself from calling his cell, but she knew that he needed his space. She was just afraid of just how much space he might need.

Cuddy jerked her head up as she heard the sound of light knocking on the front door. She reluctantly got up from the kitchen table; at first she thought it was House, but he wouldn't bother to knock. And if he did, he would have used his cane.

Her heart dropped as she opened the door to a tear stained Amelia, who was holding a plastic bag full of what looked like alcohol and nail polish.

"Hey," she said, doing her best to hide the tears. "I know you're dealing with a lot of your own crap right now, so feel free to completely shut the door on my face, but I could really use a friend, if you're up for it."

Cuddy smiled sadly at her as she held out her arms. Amelia dropped her shoulders and placed the plastic bag on the floor. She sighed as she walked into Cuddy's arms, enveloping her in a hug.

Amelia buried her head in Cuddy's shoulder, and Cuddy sighed as she gently stroked her hair.

"It's okay," she reassured. "You're okay."

Amelia lifted her head and wiped her eyes, a choked back laugh escaping her lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," she said as she picked up the plastic bag on the floor.

Cuddy didn't respond, deciding it was better to let Amelia control the conversation. "Are you sure this is okay? I don't want to interrupt anything, or wake Rachel up."

"It's fine," said Cuddy. "Rachel is sound asleep and House is….House isn't here right now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Amelia nodded in understanding as she pulled the items from her bag.

"Well, I brought my other best friend, vodka, with me" she said holding out the bottle. Cuddy stifled a laugh as Amelia continued to dig through her bag. "And nail polish."

Cuddy eyed her skeptically. "Black?" she asked as she noticed the color Amelia was holding.

"Yes," she answered definitively. "I thought I would try and match the color of my soul."

Cuddy shook her head as they walked back into the kitchen. Amelia sighed as she sat down, burying her head in her hands.

She let out a frustrated groan. "Why did he have to propose?" she asked. "I was perfectly fine with the way things were."

Cuddy scoffed, "No you weren't," she said. Cuddy sat down next to her, and Amelia lifted her head out of her hands.

"This is going to destroy him," muttered Amelia. Cuddy raised her eyebrows and Amelia continued. "Charlie, I mean. He thinks that he's found the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and I'm…I'm just not sure."

The words of her earlier conversation with House echoed in the back of Cuddy's mind, and she smiled sadly at Amelia.

Amelia wordlessly unscrewed the top of the nail polish and held out her hand, motioning for Cuddy to place her hand in hers. Cuddy obeyed, deciding that Amelia could use the distraction.

Amelia turned her attention to Cuddy's hand, lightly stroking her nails with the polish stained brush.

"When House and I started dating, I thought I was done. I thought I'd finally found it," she said, her voice tired and sad.

"What happened?" asked Amelia as she briefly looked up.

Cuddy sighed and shook her head. "Life happened. And he just couldn't step up. He wanted to, I think, but he just couldn't do it."

"Do you think he can now?"

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe. He's trying, and that's important, but it still may not be enough. You just never know with him."

"You never know with anyone," muttered Amelia. Cuddy nodded her head in agreement. Amelia sighed before continuing. "What do you think you should do?"

"Amelia, if you have to ask me, then I think you've already made your decision," said Cuddy.

"He's going to hate me," responded Amelia softly.

"He'll get over it. But you can't say yes if you're having this many doubts. Trust me."

"I know." Amelia gently dropped Cuddy's hand on the table and immediately took the other. Cuddy lifted her freshly painted hand up to her face, lightly blowing on her nails.

Amelia dipped the brush back into the bottle and paused. "Do you want to see the ring?" she asked

Cuddy's eyes widened as she spoke "You kept it?"

"Well I couldn't exactly give it back without making him think that I was saying no," she said defensively.

"But doesn't taking it with you imply that you're going to say yes?"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Do you want to see the damn ring or not?"

She reached into her purse and placed the box on the table, sliding it across the table towards Cuddy. Cuddy used her free hand to open the lid, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the ring.

"Wow," she said. "You sure you want to give this up?" she asked somewhat jokingly.

"I can't marry him Lisa," said Amelia softly. I just can't."

Cuddy placed her hand over Amelia's. "I know," she said.

"Maybe we should just get married," joked Amelia. Cuddy let out a slight laugh as Amelia continued. "I'm serious, it would solve all of our problems. Where is House by the way?"

Cuddy closed her eyes and sighed. "I don't know," she answered. "With Joey hopefully. He walked out of her a couple of hours ago."

"Did you guys get in a fight?"

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders before answering. "You could say that."

Amelia took Cuddy's other hand, going back to her project. "Is he coming back?"

"I don't know. I hope so…but I don't know."

She didn't know where House was, or what he was doing, or if he was even coming back at all.

She didn't know if she should call him, or try and find him, or give him his space.

The uncertainty of the whole situation was terrifying.

And that's when his words from before finally sunk in.

* * *

House fumbled with the key to the door, doing his best to unlock it quietly. It was well past two in the morning, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with Cuddy lecturing him on how it was unacceptable for him to come barging into her home in the wee hours of the morning.

He sighed as he walked in the door, slipping out of his jacket and resting his cane against the wall opposite of the door.

He jumped when he saw Amelia sitting on the couch. She had an open bottle of nail polish in front of her, and her feet were propped up on the coffee table in front of her.

"Can't you do that at your own home?" he asked groggily.

Amelia looked up at him and shrugged. "I wasn't in the mood to be alone. You were, apparently."

House scratched his head as he limped over to the couch. He sat down next to her and leaned back into the couch.

She mimicked his actions, and they both let out deep sighs.

"How much trouble am I in?" he asked

Amelia rolled her eyes and turned her head towards him. "She's not mad at you," she said.

"I'm pretty sure she is, but thanks for the head's up," he said, his tone biting.

"Men are idiots. She's not mad at you, she's mad at herself. Something I said must have hit a nerve, because she's been punishing herself for most of the night."

Hosue sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Amelia rolled her eyes once more and glanced over at him.

"Just go talk to her," she ordered.

House glared at her before standing up. "Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?"

Amelia smiled at him as she stretched her feet out on the couch, fluffing the pillows that lay behind her. She turned off the lamp that was lighting the room, leaving House in the dark.

He groaned as he made his way out of the darkened living room, using the wall for support. He reached the end of the hallway, his eyes darting between the door to his room and the door to Cuddy's.

He took a deep breath before turning to the left. He cringed as the door to her room squeaked as he opened it.

Cuddy's bedside lamp was the only thing lighting the otherwise darkened room, and she was tucked tightly underneath the covers. Her hair was sprawled out against one of the pillows, and her arm was draped across the other.

But he knew she wasn't asleep.

"Hey," he said softly.

She lifted her head up from the pillow, smiling sadly at him. She sat up, running a hand through her hair. "Hey," she responded.

He tentatively walked towards her and she scooted over, making room for him to sit down.

"Where did you go?" She wasn't accusing him, or being intrusive; she was just concerned.

"Nowhere, really. Just hung out at the bar with Joey."

He sat at the edge of the bed and slipped his shoes off. He lifted his leg up onto the bed, turning to face her.

"House, about earlier—

"We don't have to talk about it," he interrupted.

She sighed as she continued. "You were right. About everything. And I'm sorry that you felt like I was constantly waiting for something to go wrong. This whole time I've been blaming you for not being there for me, but maybe it was me who was never there for you."

"Don't do this," he said. "Don't punish yourself, this isn't your fault. What I said earlier…I get that you have doubts. I get that you are always going to have doubts. You'd be an idiot not to."

"So we're okay?" she asked

He nodded before resting his head against one of the pillows behind him. He spread one his arms across the other set of pillows, and Cuddy smiled as she curled into him.

She took a deep breath, relishing in his scent. He ran his fingers up and down her arm as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

He furrowed his brow as he asked, "Why is Amelia sleeping on your couch?"

Cuddy sighed before answering. "Charlie asked her to marry him."

House scoffed. "Men are idiots."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, so obviously they can't solve all of their problems in one night, but every little bit help...right? Leave a review and let me know what you think!

-Alison


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Wow, remember when I said this story was going to be about 10 chapters long? That clearly didn't happen. Right now I'd estimate it at about 20 or so, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. I have a definite end in mind to the story, but I'm still debating on how exactly to get there. But enough about that!

Thank you again for all of your continued support with this story! It has been so much fun to write and I'm so glad I"m able to share this with you all-the fact that you seem to really enjoy it makes it all the better!

I'm moving back to school tomorrow and classes start on Monday, so the updates may be just a teensy bit slower. Hopefully not though!

**Disclaimer: **Once again, I own nothing. Please don't sue me, for I am a poor college student.

* * *

House scratched his head as he walked out of the back room and into the empty space of the bar. It had been a little bit over a week since the events of Thanksgiving, and both he and Cuddy were trying to fall back into their semi-normal lives.

He groaned as he spotted Amelia sitting at the bar, her feet propped up on the wooden surface, and her nose in a book.

"Are you following me? Because most people have this thing called a home, and that's where they do things like reading books and painting their nails. And masturbate. Although I'm pretty sure Joey would enjoy watching you more than I would."

Amelia kept her face in her book, ignoring his remarks. "Self-centered today, are we?" she asked

"Only always," he replied. Amelia closed her book and looked him square in the eyes. He crossed his arms, waiting for her to explain.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Charlie is packing all of his stuff up, and I wasn't exactly in the mood to sit there and watch. He's moving to Chicago this weekend."

"Can't bear to be in the same city as the girl who shattered his heart into tiny little pieces?" House asked, his voice going up an octave as he spoke.

"No," she answered firmly. "He got a job offer from some big time law firm in Chicago. That's why he asked me to marry him."

"He's an idiot," said House.

Amelia rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly. "No he's not," she answered.

"You're right," said House sarcastically. "He's just a guy who thought you were in love with him. No big deal."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "And you're just a guy who spends every night in the bed of a woman who won't actually sleep with you. We all have our issues."

"She's got you there man," said Joey, who had emerged from the back in time to catch the tail end of their exchange.

"Remind me again why you hired him?" asked Amelia, clearly perturbed by House's presence.

"Because you asked him to," answered House. Joey shrugged his shoulders and Amelia smiled slyly.

"Right," she muttered. "Well I did that for Lisa," she added, somewhat defensively.

House placed his hand on his chest, playfully feigning gratitude. "And I am oh so grateful."

Amelia smirked and narrowed her eyes once more.

"Why _aren't _you sleeping with Lisa, by the way?" asked Joey

"Because he's an ass," finished Amelia, a slight smile on her face.

"True," said House, nodding his head. "But I've always been an ass. Part of my undeniable charm," he said slowly.

"Pretty sure the fact that she _isn't _sleeping with you negates that whole "undeniable" thing," said Joey.

Amelia stifled a laugh, and House shrugged nonchalantly.

"You both have two eyes, and between the two of you, at least half a brain, so I'm just going to let you imagine what she looks like naked. Fortunately for me, I _know_ what she looks like naked. Because of that, I also know that I don't want the next time I see her naked to be the last."

Amelia opened her mouth slightly, a stunned look on her face. "That was surprisingly…sweet. The whole naked thing was a bit offensive, but coming from you I'd expect nothing else."

"You're a woman," House responded. "It's in your nature to be offended."

"And the hits just keep on comin'," said Amelia, turning her head towards Joey.

"If you two don't stop I'm going to separate you," said Joey flatly.

Amelia lifted her hands up, backing down. House simply smirked at her, knowing he had won.

Joey rolled his eyes before turning his head towards House. "You ready to play tonight?"

Amelia perked her head up, smiling as she spoke. "You're playing tonight?" she asked.

"Yes and yes," said House, answering both of their questions.

"You coming?" asked Joey, his eyes lighting up at the thought. House rolled his eyes at the two of them. His unrequited love for her was really starting to ware thin on his nerves.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss a chance to see Gregory grace us with his talents." House narrowed his eyes at her, and she flipped a hand through her hair in a way that only Cuddy could have taught her. "Besides, I could really use a night to drown my sorrows."

Joey smiled sadly at her. "Charlie giving you a hard time?" he asked, a protective tone in her voice.

"No," she answered, defeated. "He's been perfectly fine through this whole thing. He's been…Charlie."

"You're an idiot," said House.

Joey glared at him and Amelia let out a slight laugh. "You're really fond of that word today, aren't you? I gotta go. I promised Lisa I would bring her lunch before picking up Rachel at school. She's slammed at work."

House lifted his head, pausing for a moment. He scratched his head once more, contemplating his next move. "I'll do it," he said.

Amelia raised her eyebrows, pausing as her feet his the ground. "You sure?" she asked

"Sure. You seem to be really into that book. And by book I mean Joey," he said, pointing his finger at him. Joey blushed and Amelia tried to hide the grin that was forming on her face.

Amelia shrugged her shoulders as she settled back into the chair, shooting Joey a questioning look. He matched her gaze for gaze, and House rolled his eyes

"See ya," he said, his tone more upbeat than it had been all day.

* * *

Cuddy lifted her hand to her forehead, rubbing it slightly before returning to the mountain of paperwork she had to fill out.

Due to the stress of the holiday, she had fallen behind on some of her patient records. And now, on top of all that, she had midterms to think about.

She sighed as she quickly darted her eyes over to the laptop that was inches away. She sat straight up and shook her shoulders, trying to wake herself up. The noise of her typing quickly filled the otherwise silenced room.

She didn't look up when she heard the door to her office open, knowing that it was Amelia.

"Thank god," she said, her eyes still focused on the computer. "I haven't eaten anything all day."

"You know usually when people go back to being real doctors, they let their lackeys handle all the meticulous paperwork," said House.

Cuddy looked up, a look of confusion crossing her face. "You're…not Amelia," she said. "And I don't have any lackeys."

"Nope. I'm much taller," he said. She smiled at him as he continued. "Glad to see your wardrobe hasn't changed though. You wouldn't be you if I couldn't actually see all of _you._"

She rolled her eyes as she stood up, walking towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"Brought you lunch," he answered. "Amelia told me she was stopping by before picking up the little sea urchin, so I told her I would come instead."

Cuddy eyed him suspiciously, and he rolled his eyes before continuing. "She was hanging out at the bar with Joey, and I was tired of watching them stare all doey-eyed at each other. Plus now I get to look at your boobs."

"Well thank you, I think," she said.

Cuddy smiled slyly at him before taking the bag of food from him. She walked over to the couch, setting the food on the small coffee table in front of her. House limped over to the chair across from her, plopping down into it.

"Oh, before I forget," she began, standing up from the couch and heading back to her desk. House opened his mouth slightly, watching her as she leaned across her desk, her back to him. "Would you mind taking a look at these? I'm not sure about the diagnosis."

She handed him the files, and he eyed her suspiciously. She had an innocent look on her face, one he knew she only used when she was trying to hide something. He flipped through the files casually, as his eyes darted over to her. She was standing above him, holding her breath as his eyes glossed over the pages.

"Oh you're sure," said House.

Cuddy folded her arms across her chest as she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. "What are you talking about? I'm asking you for your opinion."

"On cases you've already figured out," he finished. "You're not an idiot, Cuddy. You don't need my medical opinion."

"I value it," she said, attempting to defend herself.

"Yeah, but you seldom ever _need _it. And these cases aren't too hard to figure out." He closed them and handed back the files to her, a sly grin on his face. "Nice try though."

Cuddy sighed and dropped her shoulders. She held out her hand, motioning with her fingers for him to hand over the files. He placed them in her hand, and their fingers lightly grazed; she let them linger for just a moment before clearing her throat.

She walked the files back over to her desk and then returned to the couch. She opened up her salad and began to stab it with her fork, an annoyed look on her face.

"Why do you have to do that?" she asked. "Why can't you just let people be nice to you?"

"Because," said House, swallowing a bite of his Rueben, "You didn't do it to be nice. You did it out of pity. Two very different things."

"It doesn't matter why I did it," she said defensively. "What matters is that I took the time to do it at all." Her voice softened, and she looked over at him. "I'm worried about you, House."

House scrunched up his face, turning his head to the left. "Actually, it does matter why you did it. Reasons always matter. And you may want to rethink the beginning of that statement, because I'm pretty sure it will come back to bite you in the ass one day. And by that, I mean I will most likely use it against you."

Cuddy sighed as she sat up straighter, squaring her shoulders at him. "Fine, do what you want," she said, a hint of anger in her voice.

"Wow, you should teach a course on subtlety," he deadpanned. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"Do you miss being a doctor?" she asked, her voice flat and void of emotion.

"Yes," he answered firmly. "Now can we move on?"

Cuddy threw her fork down and scrunched up her face in confusion. "No, we can't just move on…House, we can figure something out, we can—"

"No," he interrupted. "There is nothing to figure out." His voice had hardened and Cuddy sat up even straighter, taken aback by his harshness. He bowed his head when he saw her reaction.

His face softened, and his eyes met hers. "When you do what I did, there's no going back. And even if I could, I'm not sure I would want to."

"House," she said softly. She looked as if she was about to say something, but she furrowed her brow instead, deciding against it. She reached across the table and gently squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry."

House shrugged. "Not your fault," he said simply. It was a familiar exchange between the two of them.

She smiled at him as she removed her hand from his, turning her attention back to her salad.

They finished their respective meals in silence, stealing glances from one another every once in a while.

Cuddy closed the lid to her half eaten salad and returned to her desk. She rummaged through one of her drawers as she frantically searched for a journal she had come across the other day.

House eyed her quizzically as her face lit up. She grabbed the journal and walked back over to where House was sitting.

"Page 72," she said, handing him the journal. "Thought you'd find it interesting."

He wordlessly took the journal from her, and she smiled down at him before heading back to her desk.

She settled into her chair, sighing as she returned to her computer. She typed feverously, determined to get everything done before the end of the day.

Per her instructions, House flipped to page 72. He smiled as he saw her loopy handwriting marked across the pages. She had made notes on the margins and highlighted things she had found interesting. Or, more importantly, things she knew _he _would find interesting.

He looked up at her, a smirk on his face. She was staring intently into her computer screen, biting down on her bottom lip as she focused.

They returned back to their silence. House had moved from the chair to the couch, lying down as he flipped through the journal. Every once in a while, he would turn his attention from the medicine to Cuddy, choosing to focus on her instead of the words in front of him.

She would pretend not to notice as he stared her down.

About forty-five minutes later, House broke the silence. He set the journal on the coffee table next to him before looking over to her. "You busy tonight?" he asked

"Rachel's spending the night with one of her friends from school, so other than that, no. Why?" she asked as she continued to type, her eyes still glued to the screen.

"I'm playing a set at the bar. Thought you might want to come."

Cuddy looked up, her mouth slightly ajar. "You want me to come?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"No," he began sarcastically. "I just thought I'd mention it in an offhanded way to gauge your reaction."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I'll be there," she said.

House smiled as he got up from the couch. He grabbed his cane from the edge of the chair, nodding at her as he walked. "Okay. Gotta go," he said.

Cuddy shook her head, smiling to herself as he walked out of her office. He paused as he shut the door, and even though she couldn't see it, she knew he was smiling too.

* * *

Cuddy was sitting in the middle of Rachel's room, gathering up her things so she could spend the night at her friend's house. Rachel was skipping around the room, talking incessantly about anything and everything.

"Rachel, which pajamas do you want to wear tonight?" asked Cuddy. She lifted a hand to her head, rubbing it slightly. It was Rachel's first _real _sleepover, and Cuddy was a little nervous.

She skipped over to her mother and squatted down, looming over her choices. She cocked her head to the left, planting her finger on her chin as she carefully considered each option.

"The pink ones!" she exclaimed, pointing excitedly at them. Cuddy smiled as she packed them into her backpack. "Mommy guess what?" she said, plopping down on the floor next to her.

Cuddy turned her head towards Rachel, who was smiling widely at her. "What?" she asked sweetly.

"I had the weirdest dream last night." Rachel crossed her legs underneath her, and Cuddy motioned for her to continue. "We lived in a _giant _castle, and you were The Queen and I was The Princess."

"We were? Well that must have been very exciting," said Cuddy.

Rachel nodded her head. "It was! You should have seen our castle Mommy, it was bigger than any castle I've ever seen. Even bigger than Cinderella's!" Rachel spread her arms out wide in attempts to show Cuddy just how big it was.

Cuddy smiled down at her, "Well what was so weird about your dream?"

"Well," began Rachel, stressing the word for emphasis, "House was there too. But he wasn't The King."

Cuddy sighed; she could already tell where this was going. "He wasn't? Who was The King instead?" she asked

"That's what was so weird. There wasn't a King! But House was The Jester, and he came in every afternoon to make us laugh."

"He did?" she asked, feigning surprise.

"Yes," said Rachel. "So one day I asked him if _he _could be The King, but he said no."

"Why would he do that?" asked Cuddy, playing along with her.

Rachel sighed as she scrunched up her face in annoyance. "Because, he said that Jesters don't marry Queens."

Cuddy let out a slight laugh. "It was just a dream sweetie. People can marry whomever they like," said Cuddy reassuringly.

"But is that why you and House don't kiss anymore? Because he thinks you're a Queen and he's a Jester?" asked Rachel.

Cuddy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Sometimes, Rachel was too smart for her own good.

"It was just a dream, Rachel. We should get going, you don't want to be late do you?" asked Cuddy, smiling at her in attempts to change the subject.

Rachel shook her head and stood up, grabbing her backpack from her mother. Cuddy helped her get it on, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing up.

"Are you sure you want to spend the night? Because I can come get you later, if you just want to go and play with Emma for a bit."

Rachel placed her tiny hands on her mother's face, gently squishing Cuddy's cheeks between her hands. "Don't worry, Mommy. I'm a big kid now."

Cuddy smiled and Rachel dropped her hands from her cheeks. "I know you are," said Cuddy. She moved her hands towards Rachel's stomach, taking her by surprise by tickling her lightly.

Rachel's giggles filled the air, and she collapsed into her mother's arms. She encircled her arms around Cuddy's neck, and Cuddy pulled her closer to her, stroking her hair as she pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Ready to go?" she asked. Rachel smiled into her shoulder and disentangled herself from Cuddy.

She nodded excitedly as she tugged on the straps of her backpack, swaying back and forth as she waited.

Cuddy got up from the floor, and Rachel quickly grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. They walked out of Rachel's room and headed towards the front door.

Before Cuddy opened the door, Rachel tugged on her hand. "Mommy?" she said

Cuddy looked down at Rachel, worried that she was having second thoughts.

Rachel smiled widely at her, eliminating Cuddy's fears. "I think you're a Queen," she said sweetly. "And House could be King, if he wanted to be."

* * *

Cuddy walked down the semi-crowded sidewalk, her heels clicking against the pavement as she made her small but hurried strides.

She had changed out of her work clothes, opting for a looser, yet still tight fitting, black dress. She'd showered and blown out her hair for a straighter, more relaxed look.

She took a deep breath, her hand gripping the door to the bar; she didn't know why she was so nervous.

She entered the bar, her eyes immediately darting around in search of a familiar face. The sound of Joey's ipod mixed with conversation filled the room, meaning that House had yet to perform.

Her eyes settled on the bar, where Amelia was talking to Joey. Joey was leaning towards her, and Amelia had a genuine smile on her face for the first time in days.

Cuddy was about to make her over to them when she felt the light touch of hand grazing her back, and jumped when she felt someone whisper in her ear.

"It's not a good idea to stand in the middle of an open bar. Especially dressed like that. Some creep might try and hit on you," said House.

She lifted a hand to her chest, startled by his presence. But her voice didn't falter. "As opposed to the creep who is always hitting on me?"

She turned to face him and he removed his hand from her back, taking a step backwards. "You came," he said.

"Told you I would," she answered flatly.

He smirked at her and she matched him grin for grin. He headed back towards the bar and Cuddy followed.

"Want a drink?" he asked as he walked around to the other side.

Cuddy took a seat next to Amelia, throwing her purse on the surface next to her. "Sure," she answered. She smiled as she saw the drink that House had already poured for her.

Amelia turned her head towards Cuddy, smiling at her. "You're here," she said.

Cuddy took a sip of her drink and nodded, her eyes darting back to her purse. She resisted the urge to dig through it and pull out her cell phone, just in case Rachel needed her.

"You okay?" asked Amelia, noting the worried look on her face.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling at her. "How are you, I've barely talked to you all day."

House interrupted, desperately trying to avoid another edition of "Amelia turned down Charlie's proposal."

"Cuddy's feeling guilty because she's out playing with the grown ups while Rachel has her first real sleepover," said House.

Cuddy glared at him while she took another sip of her drink. "It's not guilt," she said defensively. "I'm just concerned, that's all."

"It's guilt," said House. He shrugged his shoulders as she continued. "It's okay, it's not your fault. It's your go to emotion."

"She'll be fine, Lisa. And you deserve a night out every once in while," said Joey

"I agree. Rachel is a five year old who acts like she's nine. You have nothing to worry about," said Amelia, squeezing Cuddy's hand for comfort.

Cuddy sighed as she took another sip of her drink. She set is down in front of her and ran a hand through her perfectly blown out hair.

She could practically feel House's eyes on her.

"You're right," she said. House grinned triumphantly at her, but she quickly shot him down. "Not you," she said her eyes darting towards his. "She'll be okay."

Joey refilled Amelia's drink, and then proceeded to place his hand on House's shoulder. "Dude, come with me for a sec."

House rolled his eyes and Cuddy stifled a laugh. "Don't call me dude," he muttered.

"How about Crip? Can I call you that instead?" he joked, pushing him towards the other end of the bar.

"Now that's just mean," retorted House.

They continued to walk to the other side, leaving Cuddy and Amelia in a somewhat confused state.

Joey checked to make sure they were out of earshot before whispering. "You know, I'm starting to think that the reason Lisa isn't sleeping with you is because you're actually an asshole."

House groaned. "I know you did not pull me away from her so we could have a little chat about my behavior. Did you see what she was wearing?"

Joey grinned and shook his head. "See, that's what I'm talking about. Stop talking about how hot she is and start telling her how you feel."

"First of all, I'm never going to stop talking about how hot she is. Second of all, she already knows how I feel. The ball is in her court," he muttered.

"So, what?" he asked. "You're just going to wait around until she makes the first move? Because that doesn't seem to be getting you anywhere."

"You know, I've heard this rumor, and correct me if I'm wrong, but relationships are _usually_ between two people. Not three. Or four, if you count your little friend over there."

Joey rolled his eyes, ignoring House's remarks. "Maybe she's just waiting for you to do some big gesture. Maybe she's not sure she wants a relationship with you because she's not sure you want a relationship with her."

"Cuddy isn't one for big gestures," he muttered. House folded his arms across his chest. "And I'm going to say this one last time, so let's hope your tiny little brain can process it. She knows how I feel, and I know how she feels. That's not the issue here," he said.

"Then what is?" asked Joey

"The issue," began House, his voice deepening as he spoke. "Isn't that she doesn't know what she wants. She knows exactly what she wants. She also knows that it's insane."

* * *

Amelia brought her hands to her head, running them through her blonde mane in frustration. She turned her head towards Cuddy, who was laughing sympathetically at her.

"When did our lives become so dramatic?" she asked. "I feel like I should have a camera crew following me around."

Cuddy took a sip of her drink and pointed her finger at Amelia. "Your life," she corrected. "When did _your _life become so dramatic."

Amelia scoffed, throwing her head back in laughter. "Please, don't even try to act like you have all your shit together."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes. "What's that show you made me watch with you? The one with the two bratty teenagers with seemingly flawless hair and the perfect outfit for every occasion?"

"I think you're talking about Gossip Girl. Would I be Blair or Serena in this situation?" asked Amelia. Cuddy smiled and rolled her eyes, and Amelia paused, considering her two options.

Amelia shook her head, raising her voice slightly. "No!" she exclaimed. "We are strong, independent women, and I for one am not interested in belittling myself in order to fit the mold of fictional character on a teen drama!"

Cuddy raised her eyebrows and took another sip of her drink. Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, pushing her drink away from her.

"I think that maybe I've just had a little too much vodka…"

"Have you talked to your parents lately?" asked Cuddy, desperately trying to change the subject.

Amelia sighed and turned her head towards Cuddy. "My dad called me on Thanksgiving. I haven't called him back yet."

"Are you going to?" asked Cuddy

Amelia shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. He's making an effort, which is nice, but it doesn't change anything. He's still a lying bastard who cheated on my mom their entire marriage, and my mom is still a manipulative witch who blames me for all of their problems."

Cuddy smiled sadly at her and Amelia ran a hand through her hair. "It's okay, really. Family is overrated anyways," she said.

"Tell me about it," Cuddy muttered.

The music went off, and all conversation stopped. The light dimmed, and Cuddy turned her head towards Amelia, who was smiling excitedly at her.

Cuddy's eyes darted over to the small stage in the corner of the bar, where House was walking towards the piano.

The piano was situated at the edge, and House was facing the crowd. He didn't say a word as he sat down.

She saw him relax into the seat, a genuine smile forming on his lips as his fingers lightly pressed on the keys.

He set a glass on top of the piano, deciding that he had warmed up enough. He looked up, his eyes locking with hers.

The bar was filled to capacity, and Cuddy was seated towards the back, but he smiled a smile that she _knew _he reserved for her and she smiled back.

She flipped her hair behind her, turning all the way around to face him.

He smirked before his fingers met the ivory keys of the piano in front of him, and the sound of an upbeat jazz song that Cuddy couldn't quite place filled the air.

As the song went on, people began to clap and cheer, and Amelia and Joey were engaging in some sort of cat and mouse game, their eyes locking for a moment before quickly darting away.

But Cuddy was oblivious to her surroundings. House's eyes hadn't left hers since the moment he had started to play, and if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn they were the only two people in the room.

* * *

**A/N: **Thoughts? This chapter came pretty easily to me, so hopefully it turned out okay! Next chapter will pick up where this left off. Leave a review on your way out, of you so wish :)

-Alison


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **First of all, I'd just like to apologize for the delay in update. I know, I suck! But I'm trying to adjust being back at school, and the first week is always a little hectic. I'm going to try to update once a week from now on, and it will most likely be sometimes between Friday and Monday (that's when I have the most time to write)

This chapter was somewhat of a struggle to write, but I think it turned out well! I'm currently sitting in my Environmental Science Lecture, so I hope the person behind me is reading this and wondering what the fuck I'm doing.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. I wish I did.

* * *

There were very few times when Lisa Cuddy had ben rendered speechless.

She was a woman of words, and she always had something to say. Whether it was a snarky comment that she muttered under her breath, or an intelligent comeback that made people fear her as opposed to loving her.

Whatever the situation was, she could always count on her love for the English language to back her up.

But watching House play, his eyes locked on her and his fingers dancing across the keys, had left her without words.

She leaned back into the edge of the bar, her feet tucked underneath the stool as her back pressed against the wooden surface. Her elbow was propped up on the bar, and her chin was resting lightly in the palm of her hand.

There was a sparkle in House's eyes that she hadn't seen for a long time, and when she'd heard the news of Wilson's untimely death, she was convinced that she may never see it again.

But there it was, right in front of her.

She smiled sheepishly at him, which only seemed to encourage him; the music got louder as his hands moved across the keys excitedly.

He winked at her, causing her to roll her eyes. She reached out behind her, her hands searching for her abandoned drink. Her delicate fingers gripped the glass, and she brought it to her lips, taking a slow sip.

The alcohol burned down her throat, and she licked her lips seductively, taunting him with every move.

He bit down on the bottom of his lip ever so slightly, cursing her inwardly. He darted his eyes to the keys in front of him, deciding he couldn't take her devilish grin any longer.

But she never took her eyes off of him. Cuddy stared down at her half empty glass, convinced that she was experiencing a bit of liquid courage; there was of course, a more obvious reason for her continuous flirtation.

And no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she knew it wasn't the alcohol that was making her act this way; it was him.

It was the way he seemed to light up when he sat down in front of that piano. The way he looked at her as if she was the only person in the entire room. The way he would pull her closer to him at night when he thought she was asleep.

It was the way he challenged her. The way he pretended to be annoyed by her daughter, when he was really entranced by her.

The way he made her want to instantly forgive him for all of his past mistakes with the slightest touch, or a smoldering look.

The way he was looking at her right now, in this moment.

She took a deep breath and lifted her hand to her hair, twirling her deep brown locks between her fingers.

He smirked; he knew her mind was running rampant, and he knew he was the reason for it. She pointed her eyes at him, and he shrugged his shoulders as he continued to play, a slight smile on his face.

She jumped as she felt Joey take her drink from her.

"Sorry," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Didn't mean to scare you."

She rolled her eyes, knowing what he was getting at. "You didn't," she fired back.

"Could have fooled me." He slid the drink back towards her and she took it, glaring slightly at him.

"Ever heard him play before?"

Cuddy nodded her head as she took a sip of her drink. "Several times," she said, turning her stool around to face him.

She couldn't take his eyes on her anymore.

"Did he ever sing to you?" joked Joey.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh. "No," she answered firmly. "Where did Amelia go?"

"Bathroom, I think." He paused, and his brow furrowed as his voice went soft. "Should I be worried about her?"

Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him. "I think you should be worried about the fact that you think it's your responsibility to worry about her," she answered, smiling smugly at him.

Joey ran a hand through his hair, sighing at her response. Cuddy rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink.

"You should just tell her," said Cuddy.

Joey shook his head at her, eyeing her quizzically. "You know?" he asked

"You're not exactly discrete about it," she retorted.

"It's not the right time," he said.

Cuddy sighed, turning her head towards House for a few moments. Their eyes met, and he raised his eyebrows slightly at her. Cuddy shot him a devilish grin before turning back towards Joey.

She took another sip of her drink, smiling sadly at him. "It hardly ever is."

* * *

"Amelia?" called Cuddy, opening the door to the seemingly empty bathroom.

She laughed as she saw a mass of blonde hair pacing back and forth in front of the mirror.

"What are you doing?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Amelia ignored her question. "Why is he so nice to me?" she asked, throwing her hands up in the air. "It's irritating."

"Yes, people being nice to me always gets under my skin," answered Cuddy flatly. Amelia shot her a glare and Cuddy walked over towards her. She leaned against the sink and continued to watch Amelia pace back and forth.

"Are we talking about Joey here?"

Amelia nodded. "I've been sitting there for hours bitching about my life and how I screwed it up, and he's just standing there, more than willing to tend to my every need."

"Sounds awful," answered Cuddy.

"Calm your sass, Lisa."

Cuddy scoffed, amused by her saying. "Calm your sass? Who talks like that?"

"Apparently I do!" exclaimed Amelia. She stopped pacing and turned to face Cuddy, running a hand through her hair. "I'm freaking out Lisa," she said softly.

"Because Joey is being nice to you? Amelia, Joey is a nice person. It's not cause for concern."

"I know," she said, frustrated with Lisa's lack of comprehension. "That's not why I'm freaking out."

Cuddy nodded skeptically. "Okay," she said slowly. "Amelia, you're going to have to fill in some blanks for me."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "I just broke up with a guy I dated for six years, and I'm not sad about it. At all." Her voice softened and she folded her arms across her chest. "Lisa, I've been sitting at that bar all night thinking about Joey. Charlie hasn't entered my mind once."

Cuddy nodded.

"So you feel guilty over the fact that you don't actually feel guilty." she said, trying to follow Amelia's train of thought.

"Exactly," she answered.

"You shouldn't feel guilty. You can't control who you fall in love with."

"Are you speaking from experience or is that just a guess? Because I'm pretty sure if I tired hard enough, I could force myself to fall in love with someone. You'd be amazed at the amount of sheer will power I possess."

Cuddy laughed, standing up straight. She gently placed her hand on Amelia's shoulder. "I don't care how much will power you have. It can't be done. Trust me."

"So you _are _speaking from experience," said Amelia, a smug grin on her face.

Cuddy removed her hand from Amelia, opting to run it through her hand instead. "I'm going to head back out," she said, deflecting the question.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "You go ahead, I'll be out in a minute."

Cuddy raised her eyebrows, prompting Amelia to defend herself.

"Swear. I just need a minute."

Cuddy nodded before heading towards the door, and Amelia turned back towards the mirror. She was murmuring words that Cuddy couldn't quite make out.

Cuddy shook her head in amusement. She opened the door and began to walk back towards the bar, jumping when she heard the sound of footsteps next to her.

"I was beginning to think you'd fallen in," said House.

"Are you following me now?" she asked, not allowing her voice to falter due to his presence.

"Nope," he answered. "Just thought I would keep up our little staring contest."

They walked in tandem with each other, heading back towards the bar. Cuddy shook her head, attempting to feign innocence.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"So we're going to play it that way? Okay. I'll just have to adjust my strategy then."

She paused, turning to face him. He stopped walking, and she stood in front of him, her face inches from his. She opened her mouth slightly to answer before deciding against it.

He raised her eyebrows expectedly at her, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in.

"House," she said seriously. His face softened, and a small smile breached her lips. "You were good. I'd almost forgotten how talented you were."

He sighed, knowing she had lost her courage. He shrugged his shoulders before answering. "Show's not over yet."

He walked away from her, leaving her speechless for the second time that night.

She didn't even want to think about what he could possibly mean by that.

* * *

"You okay?" Joey asked as Amelia sat back down in the stool in front of him. Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him, and he shot her a warning glare.

Amelia eyes darted back and forth between the two, a confused look on her face. "Fine, thanks." She turned her attention to House, whose back was turned to them. "House, Lisa wasn't lying when she said you were good. You've been holding out on us."

"You should see my dance moves," he quipped. Cuddy smiled at him, and he slid another drink towards her.

Cuddy leaned closer to the counter, and House's eyes moved to her chest. His eyes widened as she moved closer, and she smirked before speaking. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked

He rested his hands on the edge of the bar, and he leaned closer, as if he were going to whisper something to her. He moved his eyes back to hers. "Yes," he exclaimed rather loudly.

Cuddy smirked once again before sitting straight up. She pushed the glass back towards him. "I think I've had enough," she said, letting out a choked back laugh.

House shrugged, "Suit your self," he said. He pushed the glass towards Amelia, who looked at it warily.

Amelia's eyes went from the glass to Joey, who had made his way over to the other end of the bar. She stared at it for about ten seconds before finally taking a sip.

She downed about half of the glass, her eyes never leaving the back of Joey's head. She set the glass back on the counter in front of her before hopping down off of the stool.

"I'll be right back," she murmured.

She was gone before Cuddy could respond.

House smirked, clearly pleased with him self. "A little liquid courage never hurt anyone," he muttered.

Cuddy smiled, realizing that was his plan all along. "You knew I wouldn't drink that, didn't you?"

"I had my suspicions," he said. Cuddy's simle widened and he rolled his eyes. "Now maybe he'll stop bitching about it. I did it for me more than anyone else."

"Right," said Cuddy skeptically. House opened his mouth to protest, but Cuddy continued, not allowing him to speak. "House, I know you actually want Joey to be happy. Amelia too, to some extent."

"This is not about-"

"It's okay," said Cuddy, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I won't tell anyone."

House simply glared at her, and Cuddy smirked, sitting up straighter in the stool.

"As fun as it is listening to you inform me of my motives, I've got another song to play," he said, cocking his head to the left.

Cuddy nodded, and he tapped the surface of the bar with his hands before he left.

He walked across the room, and the lights dimmed once again; Cuddy searched the room for any sign of Amelia, but she was nowhere to be found.

She turned her attention back to House, who had sat down in front of the piano. His hands were lightly pressing on the keys, and you could barely hear the nonsensical sounds of the keys.

Cuddy furrowed her brow as she took in his appearance; he seemed nervous, uncomfortable almost. He looked nothing like he had before.

She watched him scratch the top of his head and take a deep breath before allowing his hands to dance across the piano; she smiled, as all the tension seemed to lift from his body.

His head was bowed at first, concentrating solely on the keys in front of him.

But then he started to sing.

He lifted his head up, his eyes meeting hers.

_Wise men say, only fools rush in. _

_But I can't help, falling in love with you. _

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_

_If I can't help, falling in love with you_

His words pierced through her soul, and she took a deep breath. His eyes were still on her, and she looked him up and down; he was so vulnerable, so honest.

She hadn't seen this look on his face in years.

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea_

_Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be_

He paused, and a shiver ran down her spine. The room was silent and seemingly unaware of what was going on between the two of them.

Cuddy took a deep breath, waiting for him to continue. She smiled softly at him, her eyes full of love and understanding. A small smile escaped his lips, and he lightly pressed back down on the keys.

_Take my hand and take, my whole life too_

_For I can't help, falling in love with you. _

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea_

_Oh my darling so it goes, some things are meant to be_

_So won't you please just_

_Take my hand and take, my whole life too_

_For I can't help, falling in love with you. _

His voice was powerful, and the words even more so. He paused once more, staring her down with more passion than she had ever seen from him.

He lowered his voice, and then words were barely audible.

But she knew.

She always knew.

_For I can't help, falling in love with you. _

He peeled his eyes away from her as he got up from the bench. Cuddy's mouth was slightly ajar as she tried to process what had just occurred. She saw him slip out of the front door, and she paused for just a few moments.

She frantically searched the bar, turning her head in every possible direction; she didn't know what she was looking for, or why she hadn't gotten up yet. She drummed her fingers on the surface.

She planted her feet firmly on the ground and grabbed her purse from the opposite stool. She slung it over her shoulder as she made hurried footsteps towards the door.

Cuddy whipped the door open, turning her head from left to right as she tried to locate House.

"Looking for someone?" she heard him ask. He was leaning against the wall directly next to the entrance, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to face him.

"House," she murmured softly.

Her tone was soft and warm, and it sent shivers down his spine. He hadn't heard her speak like that to him in almost two years; he never thought one syllable could hold so much meaning.

He didn't respond. Instead, he held out his hand. She smiled sheepishly at him before extending her arm, lacing her fingers through his. He pulled her closer to him, and her eyes met his.

"You asked me if I was in," she said, resting her other hand on his shoulder. He moved one hand to her waist, smiling down on her. "I'm in, House. I'm in."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "Otherwise that little performance would have been embarrassing."

Cuddy let out a slight laugh as she moved her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. "Shut up, House."

He smiled before tightening his grip on her, pulling her even closer than before.

He leaned his face towards hers and she pulled his neck down, meeting him halfway. He gently pressed his lips towards hers, and they lingered there for a few moments.

The shock of the feeling of his lips on hers was electrifying; she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be kissed by him.

She pulled away from him for a moment, letting it sink in. She smiled up at him, and his hand bunched the material of her dress.

"You're sure?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her gaze. "Because once we—"

Cuddy smiled, interrupting him. "Yeah," she said, lightly grazing her fingers over his entangled hand. "I'm sure."

He smirked and lifted herself up, pressing her lips to his once more. He moved gently ran his hand up and down her back, and she parted her lips slightly, deepening their kiss.

He slipped his tongue into her, and she moaned into him. Their tongues moved in tandem as their lips crashed together. Her fingers tore at the nape of his neck, her hand running through his hair as their kiss furthered.

Her breath began to even out, and she reluctantly pulled away. Their foreheads remained pressed together, and she looked down, noticing that their hands were still intertwined.

House darted his eyes in the opposite direction of the bar, and Cuddy smiled, knowing what he was suggesting.

She pulled away from him, but didn't dare let go of his hand.

* * *

Her shoes were off the minutes they entered the door.

His hands immediately went to her waist, pulling her close to him. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and then used the opportunity to move his hand to the nape of her neck. She settled her hand on his waist as he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was slow and gentle, but not devoid of passion. As the kiss deepened, they began to stumble towards the bedroom. Cuddy wrapped her arms around his neck and his hands moved to her waist, supporting her as he guided her to the door.

He fumbled with the doorknob, and she pulled her lips away from his, desperate for air. She shot him a wicked grin, and he smiled as he gently walked them through the door.

Her hands returned to his chest, and he buried his face in the side of her neck, placing light kisses and nipping at her skin. She let out a moan as she clutched the material of his wrinkled button down shirt.

She unclenched her hands and her fingers fell on the buttons; she hastily undone them one by one, slipping his shirt off of his shoulders as his lips continued to move up and down the side of her neck.

He made his way up towards her ear. "Cuddy," he whispered, his tone serious.

She turned her head towards him, releasing an audible murmur. He pulled away from her and looked her straight in the eyes. A worried look crossed her face, and he laced his hand through hers, a small smile escaping his lips.

"I love you," he said.

Cuddy sighed in relief and smiled up at him. "I love you too," she said.

House smiled down at her and his hands gravitated to her side and up her back as he slowly unzipped her dress. She rested her hands on his shoulders as she stepped out of the dress, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He leaned towards her, their lips crashing together again. He guided her to the foot of the bed and slipped his hand to her upper back, unclasping her bra.

The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and House looped his arm around her back, supporting her against the edge. They broke their kiss, and he slid her bra off.

He paused for just a moment, taking her in. Her face reddened and he smirked, burying his face in her neck.

She fiddled with the button to his jeans, pushing them down slowly after unzipping them. She let her hand linger for just a moment, a devilish grin on her face as she felt him grow harder with every lasting touch.

"Two can play at that game," he muttered, moving his lips from the crook of her neck to her exposed breast.

He stepped out of his jeans and gently pushed her further towards the bed, the two of them collapsing onto the surface.

She moaned as she felt his tongue dance across her chest, and he ran his hand up and down the side of her thigh.

He nipped at the skin right above her nipple, taunting her with every move. She arched her back and dug her fingers into the back of his neck, and he smirked before taking her breast in his mouth.

She ran her hand through his hair, and he removed his lips from her chest. He caught her lips in his, and they both released simultaneous moans.

His hand grazed up and down her thigh, pausing at the string of her black, lacy, thong. He pulled at the string, teasing her as his thumb caressed the skin that lay directly underneath the thin material.

Cuddy retaliated, a small smirk on her face as she moved her hand to the waistband of his boxers, removing them swiftly.

She took him in her hands, distracting him as she stroked the tip of his length in a teasing manner. His muscles contracted and he buried his neck into her shoulder.

The itch of his stubble contrasted with her smooth, silky skin, and she hooked her ankles around his legs, desperate for every inch of their bodies to be touching.

He returned his attention back to the lace that was pinned underneath his fingers, all of a sudden reminded of what he had been doing before she had taken control.

His thumb lightly caressed the skin above her underwear, drawing dangerously close to her more sensitive area. He smirked as he heard her breath hitch.

"House," she murmured, pleading with him. He slid her underwear off and cupped her ass, drawing them closer together.

She bit down onto his shoulder as he moved his hand back up to her breast, caressing it as his hand roamed all over her body.

Cuddy threw her head back and arched her back, her hips bucking towards his. A shiver shot through her spine as she felt him pressed against her, and they both moaned in anticipation.

Blue met grey as their eyes connected, both full of passion and lust. She wrapped her leg around his, pulling him closer as their limbs collided together.

Their lips met once more, matching the passion that was evident in their eyes.

He thrust into her and they both let out a gasp, their muscles contracting as the familiar feeling of encompassing one another resurrected within them.

She arched her back and he plunged even further into her.

His motions were slow at first, and she nipped at the base of his neck as he moved within her.

Her nails clawed into his back, causing his pace to quicken. He groaned into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. She tightened her leg around him, using all of her strength to flip on top of him.

Her hair cascaded down in front of her, and he gripped her waist, delving into her even further. She threw her head back, and his hands moved to her flattened stomach, running them up and down as she rocked on top of him.

She quickened their pace, and his hands cupped her breasts, causing her to let out a satisfied moan.

Watching her come undone on top of him caused him to reach his high, and his shoulders began to shake as she drew him out longer, suddenly slowing their pace down.

He pulled her back down towards her, his hands roaming her back, her face inches from his. He pressed his lips to hers and thrust into her once more, sending them over the edge.

Their lips separated, and he pressed his mouth to the edge of her jaw, their cries filling the air.

His arms buckled as his muscles relaxed, and she collapsed on top of him. She rested her chin on his chest, closing her eyes as their breathing returned to a normal pace. He ran his hand up and down her back as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

She sighed, a small laugh escaping her lips. She rolled off of him and settled into his side, and he draped an arm across her middle.

Cuddy nestled into the crook of his shoulder as she began to lazily draw circles on his chest.

She turned her head towards his, their eyes meeting once more. "Why did we ever stop doing this?"

"I have no fucking idea," he answered.

House smiled down at her as he pulled her closer to him. She let out a small laugh before slipping underneath him and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He pressed his lips to hers once more.

She pulled away, running her hands through his hair.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time then, won't we?" she asked, her voice charged with sexual tension.

"Seems like the logical thing to do," he murmured.

She smirked and ran her hands down his chest, one hand moving to his shoulder as she clutched his bicep. He cradled her beneath him before leaning his head closer to hers, catching her lips in his.

* * *

_Ta-da! I told you that they would have sex soon. Upon further inspection, I've realized that the sex was a bit shorter than I thought, but no need to fret; there will definitely be more. Leave a review to let me know what you think!_

_And remember-we're still not done dealing with the issue of who House really is. _

_-Alison_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **_Hello all! I'm glad you enjoyed the last installment! Things are really starting to pick up now, but don't worry, I still have lots of things planned for this story. I didn't have class on Monday, so I found some time to write. I haven't begun work on the next chapter though, but I hope to have it up by the end of this weekend. Fingers crossed! Anyway, read away!_

* * *

House took a deep breath, taking in her scent. He had an arm wrapped around Cuddy, who was sprawled out across his chest, her hair draping over every inch of his skin.

His fingers ran up and down the side of her shoulder as she slept; he was too caught up in the moment to allow sleep to overcome him.

There was a part of him that still thought that maybe this was all just a dream. And if he went to sleep, the dream would be over.

That wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

He pushed the thought out of his mind as his eyes fell on her, and he smiled as he saw the slight smile forming on her lips as she slept.

House pressed a kiss to Cuddy's temple, and she stirred beneath him, releasing an audible murmur.

She ran her hand across his chest, rubbing it lightly as her eyes fluttered open. Cuddy lifted her head up and rested her chin on his chest, smiling widely up at him.

"Good morning," she said groggily.

"It most certainly is," he answered, his hand continuing to run up and down her side.

She sighed as she reached across him, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back to his chest, sighing as she threw her phone on the other side of her.

"I have to go get Rachel soon," she said, her cheek resting on his side.

House groaned, his hand pausing on her ass. Cuddy smiled sheepishly at him, and he smirked.

"Isn't that what your best friend-slash-baby sitter is for?" he asked, squeezing her ass gently, an innocent look on his face.

Cuddy scoffed, laughing slightly at his antics. "I'm not sending Amelia to go pick up Rachel just so we can have sex again."

"You make it sound so trivial," he whined as he lifted the sheet up, his eyes widening as his eyes glazed over her naked form. "It's a sacred act, Cuddy."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and propped herself up, pulling part of the sheet up with her. She dropped her hand to his head, her fingers gently running across the side of his face.

"I'll be gone twenty minutes," she said, smiling down on him.

She leaned over him, and he pulled her down as his hand ran up her back, travelling to the nape of her neck and settling in her hair.

She pressed her lips to his, causing the sheet to be discarded between them. Skin and lips met, sending shivers down the both of their spines. She moaned into him, her other hand falling to his chest.

He breathed her in, parting his lips as he deepened the kiss. Her leg gravitated over to his, her foot rubbing against his leg, increasing the friction between them. She felt herself falling into his trap, and she quickly pulled away.

House lightly grabbed on to her wrist, his fingers tracing circles on her delicate hands. "You're really sending me mixed signals here," he said.

Cuddy smirked as she disentangled herself from him. "I don't see you complaining," she said.

Her arms fell off the bed, searching for any piece of clothing. Her hands found his shirt, and she sat up, her back to him as she slipped it on.

House watched intently as she dressed, a wave of happiness rushing over him. A smile formed on his lips as he watched her fumble with the buttons.

Cuddy reluctantly got out of bed and headed towards her walk in closet, searching for something more appropriate to wear. She thumbed through her clothes and carefully selected a pair of jeans before making her way to the dresser that sat further back.

She heard House's footsteps behind her and she smiled at his inability to be away from her for even a few minutes.

Cuddy turned around, finding House leaning against the wall of her closet door. He had dressed in his flannel pajamas but refrained from putting a shirt on.

"I always thought my shirts looked better on you," he said, making his way towards her.

She blushed as he reached her, and he situated his hands on her tiny waist. "Really?" she asked, placing one hand on his chest and one on his shoulder. "Because I always got the impression that you liked them off more than on," she taunted.

House smirked as he tightened his grip on her. He gently took one of her hands in his, dropping it to the side in order to give him more access. One by one, he slowly undid the buttons of the shirt.

"Well that goes without saying," he murmured. Her shirt now completely undone, he slipped a hand up towards her waist, inching up further and further with every passing moment.

She sighed as he pushed her back towards the dresser, a loud thud erupting when their bodies crashed against it.

"House," she whispered, drawing out his name. "I really do have to go."

"I'll be quick," he said, opening her shirt even more as his hands wandered across her exposed upper half.

Cuddy moaned in pleasure, the feeling of his warm hands contrasting with the initial shock of the cold surface that was resting behind her.

"Sure you can manage that?" she asked, her voice charged with sexual tension.

House smirked, and tightened his hold on her. His weight shifted, catching her by surprise as he lifted her up in one sweeping motion. She let out a small shriek, taken aback by his actions.

"Who said this was about me?" he asked.

He settled his hands on her thighs, inching them upwards ever so slightly. She leaned her head back; another thud occurring as she felt the base of her neck meeting the wall behind her.

"House," she said, her voice mixed with warning and desire.

Her resistance disappeared within seconds; his hands had reached the top of her hips, and he was parting them slowly.

Her shirt was still on, but he didn't bother to remove it. The small peak of her exposed breasts made him want her even more.

Inch by inch, his hands travelled up her body. She had expected him to stop at the top of her legs, but he was nowhere done with her.

Her body was like a magnet to him, drawing him in from every which direction.

She moaned as she felt one of his hands push her shirt to the side; pausing, he began to caress her breast. He ran his thumb across her nipple and she shuddered. Her hand fell to his shoulder and she gripped it tightly, begging him for relief.

He smirked as he removed his hand, and it began to make it's way back down her body.

She ran her hand through his hair, her fingers clasping at the stray hairs as he caressed every inch of her body.

House lowered his head just a bit, his mouth coming into contact with her bare thigh.

He kissed up her leg, one hand resting on the edge of the dresser, the other running up and down her opposite thigh.

"House," she began, her breath ragged as she spoke. He continued to kiss up her thigh, parting her legs even more as he inched closer and closer. "Your leg," she said, noticing that he was at a somewhat awkward angle.

He nipped at her skin and she moaned, gripping his hair even harder. He paused, taking his lips off of her. He glanced up and smirked as he saw the want and desire that was running rampaint in her eyes.

Her chest was flushed, and there were small beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

"That's not really what I'm focusing on right now," he said, quickly returning to what he was doing before she interrupted.

She let out a cry as his lips moved to her inner thigh, and she let her hand fall to the edge of the dresser as he drew dangerously close to her more sensitive area.

His teeth scrapped across her thigh, and she moaned even louder, her cries filling the air. She hooked her legs around his shoulders, finally giving in to him.

His tongue ran across her, and he suddenly pulled back. She drew a sharp breath and dug her perfectly manicured nail into his shoulder.

"See?" he asked. The feeling of his breath on her was enough to drive her crazy. "Don't even try to pretend you're not enjoying this."

She didn't have time to respond; his tongue entered her seconds later, teasingly sucking on her clit as his hand ran down her thigh, travelling to her perfectly toned calf.

He parted her legs even further, his hands gripping her as he pleasured her most sensitive area. He quickened his rhythm, the culminating pattern of flicking, sucking, and nipping becoming too much for her.

Any preoccupied thoughts were erased from her brain, and she cried out to the ceiling as she reached her high.

Her heart was pounding, and she slightly arched her back, allowing him to go even further.

His hands returned to her thighs, and he moaned against her as he delivered just the right amount of pressure to really send her over the edge.

Her muscles tensed and her body began to shake, and he pressed his hands further into her thighs, holding her still as she came against him. Her cries filled the otherwise silence room, and one hand thrust through his hair, urging him on as he pleasured her.

House's pace eventually slowed, and her breaths began to even out. She leaned her head back, sighing contently as she came off of her high.

He removed himself from her, and she unhooked her legs, allowing him to stand straight up.

Their eyes were even, and he smirked as he saw the glossy look forming in her eyes. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck as he inched closer to her, his hands settling on her waist.

She pressed her lips to his, and he gathered her in his arms before gently setting her back on the ground.

He pulled his lips away from hers, and Cuddy disentangled herself from him. She motioned for the jeans, and he threw them to her. She rummaged through her underwear drawer and picked up the first pair she saw.

She turned around, her back to him as she pulled the underwear on. Her shirt lifted up ever so slightly, and he raised his eyebrows, content with the view in front of him.

She smirked as she felt his eyes on her.

"If you're going to get dressed like that _every _morning, I may have to wake up just for the view," he teased.

She walked over to him, dressed only in her jeans and bra, a taunting look on her face.

"Why would you want to watch me dress when you could just as easily watch me _undress?_" She rested her hands on his chest, one moving up towards his shoulder, a wicked smile on her face. "Or, better yet, undress me yourself?"

He cocked his head to the left and drew a sharp breath; for someone who had someplace to be, she was being surprisingly playful.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked, ignoring her question.

She glanced at the clock and smirked, walking back into her closet and slipping on the first shirt she could find.

Cuddy ran a hand through her hair, deciding that a ponytail was the best option if she wanted to deter Emma's mother from thinking she had spent the entire night, and the better part of the morning, having unbelievably good sex.

A smile breached House's lips as her shirt raised the tiniest bit, exposing part of her stomach as she pulled her hair back.

"I'll be back soon," she said, walking towards him. She pressed her lips to his gently, and he leaned into her, his hands gripping her waist. Cuddy reluctantly pulled away, a soft smile on her face. "I promise you can undress me later," she whispered seductively.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "It's not nice to tease cripples, you know." She smirked at him, and he nodded his head in the direction of the door. "Scram before I force you to stay," he ordered.

She smiled before wrapping her hand around the side of his arm, lifting herself up and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

She sauntered out of the closet, adding a little jaunt to her step that he could have sworn was purely for his benefit.

He leaned back against the closet door, closing his eyes as she left the room.

House paused for a moment, looking down at his leg.

For the forst morning in a long time, it didn't hurt.

* * *

Cuddy took a deep breath as she got into the car, unable to hide the grin that was plastered on her face. She slipped on her sunglasses and dug through her purse, pulling out her phone.

She dialed Amelia's number before starting the ignition; after a few rings, she picked up.

"Hello?" she said groggily.

"Sorry," said Cuddy, a confused look on her face. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"That would have required me going to sleep last night," she answered. "I'm at Joey's," she whispered.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows, and Amelia quickly defended herself. "Nothing happened," she said.

"I believe you," said Cuddy unconvincingly.

Amelia rolled her eyes on the other end of the line. "Bullshit," she retorted. Cuddy let out a slight laugh and Amelia continued. "We just hung out. I helped him close down the bar, and then neither one of us were tired, so we grabbed some coffee."

"You went on a coffee date at three in the morning?"

"It wasn't a date. It was coffee between two friends. And this is the city, you can find anything you could possibly need at three in the morning. Where did you and House slip off to last night?"

Cuddy paused. "We went home," she said warily.

"You guys had sex, didn't you?" she asked. Cuddy scoffed, and Amelia continued, her voice rising excitedly as she spoke. "I saw the way you two were looking at each other. You could have cut the sexual tension with a knife."

"I didn't call to talk about me and House," answered Cuddy.

"Deflection. That practically confirms my suspicions," said Amelia pointedly.

"I'm going to hang up," threatened Cuddy.

"Fine, I'm sorry," said Amelia, somewhat mockingly. Cuddy rolled her eyes at Amelia's insincerity. "What's the real reason you called?"

"I was just calling to see how you were," answered Cuddy.

"False," said Amelia, calling her out. "You never call just to chat. You always have a reason."

"I just said that I called to see how you were. That is the definition of having a reason," Cuddy fired back.

"Well it's not a very good one, now is it?" Amelia paused, piecing everything together. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" asked Cuddy, irritated by the way the conversation was progressing.

"Unless the reason you called is because you knew I would call you out on not actually having a reason, and would therefore force you to talk about whatever did or did not happen between you and House last night. Which means you want to talk about it, but you don't want to bring it up. So you're trying to force my hand."

Cuddy stared at the road in front of her. "You're starting to sound like House," she muttered.

"He and I share an astute appreciation for logic. It comes in handy during situations like this."

"Fine, you're right," said Cuddy, a smile forming on her lips.

Amelia didn't push further; she knew that if Cuddy wanted her to hear all the gritty details, she would share them eventually.

"That's great Lisa. Really, it is," said Amelia.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes skeptically; Amelia was almost never that short, and she rarely ever had to solidify her response a second time. "Do you want to try that again?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, you're right. I'm being stupid. You deserve this, and I really am thrilled for you. I'm just being selfish and projecting my issues onto you."

"Amelia, you just completely turned your life around. It's okay for you to be a little selfish," she said.

"But not at the expense of you," she answered.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and let out a slight laugh. "Look, I'm about to pick up Rachel. I'll call you later though."

"Okay. I'm going to go home and try and get some sleep, but maybe I'll stop by later this afternoon. I promised Rachel a trip to the zoo the other day. Oh, and Lisa?"Cuddy paused, waiting for Amelia to continue. "I'm glad you finally had some really great sex."

"I'll talk to you later," said Cuddy, ignoring her remarks and quickly hanging up the phone.

She shook her head and got out of the car, shutting the door before making her way up the cobblestone steps. She smirked as she rang the doorbell, unable to hide the smile that was plastered on her face.

After all, it_ had_ been really great sex.

* * *

House was standing over the oven, his eyes fixated on the eggs in front of him. He was in an unusually good mood; one he could only assume was due to what happened between he and Cuddy the night before—and then again this morning.

He picked up the spatula, moving the eggs around as he replayed the night in his mind.

The feeling of her lips on his, her hands scraping across his chest and down his back, their moans of pleasure filling the room.

They were all familiar feelings, but somehow they felt brand new. It was exciting and intoxicating, and she still drove him crazy with the slightest touch, but waking up to her in his arms, her hair sprawled out across his chest and their limbs meshed together, was comfortable.

As cheesy and ridiculous as it made him sound, he felt like he'd found his way back home. Also, he just really liked the feeling of being inside her.

There, that sounded more like him.

He was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Rachel was excitedly retelling the events of her first "big girl" sleepover, and Cuddy was listening intently, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

To her five year old, it most certainly was the most important thing in the world.

"And then we dressed up as Princesses, and I got to be Anastasia! Did you know that Anastasia was a_ real _Princess Mommy? She wasn't a fake one like Snow White or Rapunzel."

They walked through the kitchen, and Cuddy paused, surprised by the image in front of her.

Rachel didn't seem to notice House, and continued to talk a mile a minute. "Except she really did die when the Bolshelicks attacked."

House smirked at the child's mispronunciation. "I think they prefer the name Bolshevik," he said, turning his head towards her.

"What's all this?" asked Cuddy, a hint of surprise in her voice.

It appeared that in her absence, House had prepared for breakfast the three of them. He'd laid out several cereal boxes for Rachel, deciding that it would be better to let her pick than hear her whine about hoe she wanted Honey Nut Cheerios, not the regular ones.

There were several pieces of toast piled up on a plate, next to what appeared to be three different types of jelly; grape, strawberry, and raspberry.

Rachel tugged on Cuddy's arm, and then looked up at her. "I think House made breakfast for us!"

Cuddy laughed as she let go of Rachel's hand. "Go put your things in your room and then we can eat, okay?"

Rachel nodded excitedly before walking over to where House stood. She tugged on his shirt, and he looked down at her.

Rachel ushered him towards her, trying to make it so Cuddy couldn't hear what she was saying. House bent down, playing along with the five year old, causing a smile to form on Cuddy's lips.

Rachel shielded the side of her mouth with her small hand, doing her best to whisper. "Maybe this will make Mommy want to kiss you again," she said.

House smirked, his eyes darting over to Cuddy, who was stifling a laugh. "We can only hope," responded House.

Rachel giggled before running off to her room, her backpack swinging through the air.

House slid the eggs onto the plate and set them on the counter. Cuddy walked over to him, leaning across him to inspect the array that he had prepared. House cocked his head to the right, taking the opportunity to enjoy the view that she had presented him with.

"You didn't have to do all this," she said softly, turning around to face him.

She leaned against the counter, and his hands immediately gravitated to her hips, gently pushing her back against the edge, trapping her between him and the counter.

"I was afraid that if I didn't feed you, you might not want to sleep with me anymore," he joked.

Cuddy scoffed. Her hands found the material of his shirt and her fingers clenched it, pulling him closer. "Better safe than sorry," she said.

"That's what I always like to say."

His face was inches from hers, and she smiled as she leaned forward. His hand inched up below her shirt, teasing her as he rubbed her skin gently.

They heard the pitter-patter of Rachel's footsteps rushing towards them, and Cuddy quickly pulled away, clearing her throat.

Rachel appeared in the kitchen, completely oblivious to what was occurring only moments ago. She skipped over to the table and carefully inspected the cereal choices that had been laid out in front of her.

Once she made her choice, she turned around to face House and Cuddy. They were leaning against the counter, their faces flushed and their hearts pounding, but Rachel didn't seem to notice.

"Mommy, can I have some Apple Jacks please?"

* * *

After breakfast and a much-needed nap, Rachel had dragged them all to the zoo. House was going to protest, but Rachel had crossed her arms and poked her bottom lip out, and Cuddy had shot him a glaring look, so he caved.

They met Amelia outside the entrance, and Rachel, who hadn't seen her in what felt like days, had been clinging to her ever since.

Amelia and Rachel were walking a few feet in front of them; House and Cuddy hung towards the back, taking a little space for themselves.

"Melia?" Cuddy heard Rachel asking. "Did you know that Anastasia was a _real _Princess?"

Cuddy turned her head towards House, and they both let out a slight laugh. House snaked his arm around Cuddy's waist, and she smiled, leaning into him as they walked.

House's hand dropped lower with every step, and Cuddy turned her head, sending him a warning glare. His hand paused on her lower back and he smiled innocently at her.

She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes in amusement before letting her head fall back to his shoulder.

Amelia and Rachel stopped at the elephant exhibit a few feet ahead. Rachel scurried off and Amelia quickly followed. She looked back at Cuddy, who was smiling graciously at her.

House and Cuddy stopped at the edge of the exhibit. They stood at the rail, and Cuddy leaned forward to get a better look.

House smirked; he couldn't resist the opportunity that she had handed him.

Hos hand slipped down her back, falling to her ass. He let linger there just for a moment, and he squeezed it, giving her very little time to react.

She jumped, turning her head towards him. "Watch yourself," she ordered.

"I'm just acting on instinct," he said defensively. "Being at the zoo really bring out the carnivore in me."

Cuddy shook her head, and he smiled, removing his hand from her. "You're disgusting," she said.

House shrugged his shoulders, a small smirk appearing on his face.

They were interrupted by Rachel skipping towards them, with Amelia lagging shortly behind her.

Rachel stopped at Cuddy's feet, her big brown eyes staring up at her excitedly. She tugged on Cuddy's sleeve, and then held out her tiny arms, begging her to lift her form the ground.

Cuddy sighed, bending down to pick up the little girl. She settled her on her hip, and Rachel rested her head on Cuddy's shoulder.

"Mommy?" she asked, lifting her head up. Rachel took a lock of Cuddy's hair in her hand, twirling it around her finger as she spoke. "Can we get a baby elephant for my birthday?"

Cuddy snorted, amused by her daughter's imagination. "Absolutely not," she answered.

Rachel sighed dramatically, turning her attention back to the elephants. A few moments later, her eyes widened, and a cunning look appeared on her face.

"House?" she asked in sing-songy voice, drawing out the syllables of his name. "Will _you _get me a baby elephant for my birthday?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"No can do kiddo. You see, I had one all picked out for you, but your mom won't let me buy it. My hands are tied," he said.

Rachel giggled, and Cuddy set her back on the ground, much to the little girl's dismay.

"_Mom," _she whined, her bottom lip poking out.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows once more, this time in a "don't you dare sass me" manner, and Rachel quickly smiled at her, opting to take her hand instead.

Cuddy glanced over at Amelia, who was talking on the phone, a smile on her face.

Rachel looked up at her mother. "She's talking to Joey," said Rachel quietly.

"You are one nosy kid," said House, leaning his head over the railing and arching it in her direction.

"You're a grumpy goober," Rachel fired back.

"Am not," responded House.

"Are too!" said Rachel

Cuddy sighed interrupting them both.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," she said. "Rachel, don't call people grumpy goobers." Cuddy turned her head towards House, who had a triumphant smirk on his face. "At least _try _and act your age, will you?" she asked, her voice softening.

"_Mom,"_ said House, mimicking Rachel's earlier response. Cuddy shook her head, ignoring his remarks.

Rachel quickly turned her attention back to the animals. She let out a gasp of surprise when one of the elephants suddenly made a sound. Rachel clung tighter to Cuddy as she watched the animal move it's trunk up and down, thumping it angrily on the ground every once in a while.

Cuddy gently stroked Rachel's head, and House watched, amused by her sudden wariness.

"I'll be right back," he muttered to Cuddy.

Cuddy turned to face him, a concerned look on her face. "You okay?"

"Fine," he said reassuring her. "I won't be long."

Cuddy nodded her head skeptically, watching him walk away.

A few moments later, Amelia took walked back towards them.

"Where'd House go?" she asked

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders. "No idea," she said, a confused look on her face.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," said Cuddy. "Everything's fine. How's Joey?" asked Cuddy, trying to change the subject.

Amelia's crossed her arms and bent down towards Rachel. "You little tattle-tale," she said jokingly.

Rachel giggled, swinging back and forth innocently.

"He wants to go to dinner tonight," Amelia confessed, turning her attention back to Cuddy.

Cuddy nodded her head in understanding. "You should go," she said.

"You think?" she said, eyeing her quizzically.

"Amelia, you should just stop fighting it. The longer you wait the harder it is. It's good that you're scared," said Cuddy, noting the nervous look on her friend's face. "It means that he actually means something to you."

Amelia sighed. "I'm blaming you if this blows up in my face," she said.

Cuddy smiled, but was interrupted by Rachel's excited cries.

"Mommy look!" she said, pointing in the opposite direction of the fenced in area.

"What is it sweetie?" asked Cuddy worriedly.

The worry was quickly washed from her face when she saw House limping towards them, a stuffed animal tucked beneath his arm.

She smiled when she realized it was a baby elephant.

Rachel quickly dropped her hand, rushing over towards House.

Cuddy watched as her daughter sprinted towards him, and she smiled as he handed Rachel the small animal. Rachel hugged it tightly to her chest, and Cuddy's heart dropped when she saw Rachel wrap her tiny arms around House's waist.

House stood there awkwardly for a moment, before allowing his hand to drop to her shoulder, patting it gently.

Rachel eventually disentangled herself from him and ran back towards Cuddy and Amelia.

"Mommy, look what House bought for me!" Rachel shook the animal in front of Cuddy before bringing it back towards her chest, snuggling it. "I'm going to name her Regina."

Cuddy smiled, bending down to Rachel's level. "That was very nice of him, wasn't it? she asked, darting her eyes towards House, who was standing a few feet behind Rachel. "Did you say thank you?"

Rachel nodded, and then walked over to Amelia. "Can we go show Fred my new friend?" she asked eagerly.

Amelia nodded her head. "Absolutely. Come one kiddo," she said, extending her hand. Cuddy stood up, and Amelia turned her head as they walked. "We'll be right back. You guys stay here."

Cuddy gave her a pointed look and Amelia winked, a smirk on her face.

House walked over to her, and Cuddy smiled. He placed his hands on her hips, and she smiled even wider, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"That was very sweet of you," she said.

House shrugged. "They were having a two for one sale. I couldn't resist," he joked.

Cuddy smirked before tilting her head and pressing her lips lightly to his. He pulled her closer, letting his lips linger on hers for just a moment.

He pulled away, and she dropped her hands to her side. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she leaned into him, resting her head in the crook of her shoulder.

"Cuddy?" he asked seriously.

She turned her head, their eyes meeting. He looked down at her, his eyes earnest and thought provoking.

"Did you know that the average size of an elephant's penis is eight feet?"

* * *

_That's all for now! This was somewhat of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! As I said before, I hope to have the next chapter up by the end of the weekend, but I'm not quite sure how my week is going to progress. Leave a review to let me know what you think! :)_

_-Alison_


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Hi everyone! I know this one took a bit longer than usual, but I've been slammed with homework the past week or so. Sophomore year of college is proving to be much more time consuming than my Freshman year. But fear not! I'm still chugging away with this little story. Thank you for your patience and I hope you continue to enjoy this.

* * *

House opened the door to Cuddy' home, careful to make as little noise as possible. It was nearing three in the morning, and he knew she would have a heart attack if he woke Rachel up.

Or worse, refuse to have sex with him for a day or so.

He shuddered at the thought.

House walked down the hall, running his hand through his hair as he sighed. People at the bar had been particularly irritating that night, and he was exhausted.

His stomach growled and he groaned; all he wanted to do was crawl in bed, but he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't eat something first.

He turned around and headed back into the kitchen, his eyes darting over to the gleaming light of the clock above the stove. Cuddy would be getting up in about four hours, so he would only get about four hours of sleep.

Or maybe three, if he was lucky.

He smirked at the thought before bending down in front of the refrigerator, weighing his options.

Cuddy's fridge was a direct representation of her internal neurosis. Items were divided categorically, with the fruits and vegetables in one drawer, while the meats and cheeses were in another. Juices and condiments were placed neatly on the inside shelf of the door, providing easy access and visibility to any item one might need.

House shook his head before grabbing the necessary items to make a sandwich.

He turned on a small lamp that sat on the counter near the stove, providing him with some light to assemble his snack.

He was in the process of delicately placing the cheese atop the meat when he heard the light pitter-patter of footsteps coming towards him. He paused, hoping that if he didn't make any sudden moments, the owner of said footsteps would return to her warm, cozy bed.

He sighed as he heard the little girl let out a small squeak behind him.

He turned around, towering over Rachel, who was clutching Lady tightly to her chest. She let out a yawn before giving him a slight wave.

House nodded at her, and Rachel smiled, careful not to make much noise. She walked over to one of the bar stools, climbing up slowly.

House silently finished putting his sandwich together before he walked around to the other side of the counter, plopping down into the seat next to her.

"Hey twerp," he said before taking a bit out of his sandwich.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't call me a twerp," she whispered.

Rachel hopped down from the stool and scurried over to the fridge. She opened it, and House eyed her quizzically as her eyes frantically searched for something.

"What are you looking for?" he asked somewhat disapprovingly.

Rachel ignored his tone before grabbing a juice box from the door. "Juice," she answered. She turned her head towards him and walked back over to her seat.

She climbed back up and placed Lady in her lap, and House raised his eyebrows at her. The tip of her tongue stuck out as she made futile attempts to stick the straw through the appropriate hole.

Once it was through, Rachel smiled slyly, impressed with her ability to prepare her juice box all on her own.

She took a sip and then sighed, turning her head towards House. "Don't tell Mommy," she ordered.

House took a bite of his sandwich, his mouth full as he spoke. "What are you doing up anyway? Shouldn't you be dreaming about puppies, or kittens, or princesses right about now?"

"I had a bad dream," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. House turned towards her, and she took another sip of her drink. "But I'm not scared anymore."

"Why is that?" he asked, taking another bite.

Rachel cocked her head to the left, contemplating his question. She twirled her long brown hair around her tiny finger and pushed her juice box away from her.

"Mommy says that I shouldn't be scared of my dreams. She says that my dreams are part of my imagination, so I'm always in control. As long as it's my dream nothing bad will happen."

"Your Mommy is a control freak," he answered.

Rachel shot him a glare and hugged her pillow tighter. "She is not," she spit back.

"I've known your mother longer than you have. Trust me, she's a control freak." Rachel huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes at him. "You'll learn soon enough," he muttered.

"How do I know if I can trust you?" she asked, folding her arms and sitting up straight.

House furrowed his brow and set his sandwich back down on the plate. He turned towards her, matching her glare for glare. He nodded in the direction of the juice box.

"I promise not to tell her about your impromptu little juice box."

Rachel eyed him for a moment, weighing her options. Her eyes darted between him and the juice box, and she grabbed it, taking one least draining sip.

"Okay," she said happily. She hopped down from the stool and threw the container in the trashcan.

Rachel grabbed her pillow pet from the seat and hugged it to her chest, burying her face in the tattered fur for a moment or two. Once her face was removed, she looked up at House, who was in the process of finishing his sandwich.

"I'm going back to sleep," she said.

House nodded, and she padded down the hall back towards her room. She made it a few feet before turning around, dropping her pillow pet from her chest to her side.

"Don't forget," she whispered just loudly enough for him to hear. "This stays between us."

House smirked, and Rachel turned back around as she headed towards her room.

Once she was gone, House cleaned up the remnants of his snack, making sure to place the items in the exact place he found them.

He glanced at the clock and sighed; almost a half an hour had gone by. He switched off the light, leaving him in complete darkness as he made his way to Cuddy's room.

He slowly opened the door and crept into the room as quietly as possible. He walked into her closet, grabbing his flannel pajama bottom from the top of the dresser.

He slipped out of his shoes and changed his pants as quietly as possible. He heard her stir and he paused, cringing his face. When she didn't make any more sounds, he continued.

Once he was dressed, he exited the closet and limped towards the bed. He gently flipped back his side of the covers and slid in next to her, letting out a deep breath as his head hit the pillow behind him.

Cuddy stirred and turned her body towards him, curling up into his shoulder. She placed her hand on his chest, rubbing it softly as she spoke.

"What time is it?" she asked, murmuring into his chest. House turned his head towards her and draped his arm over her pillow, placing his hand on her back.

"Three-thirty," he answered. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and she sighed at the late hour. "Go back to sleep," he said.

Cuddy ignored his request, and she scooted closer to him as she slowly fluttered her eyes open.

She smiled groggily at him, and he looked down at her as he pulled her closer. She gripped the material of his t-shirt as her eyes met his. "Does Joey need you tomorrow night?" she asked

House ran his fingers up and down her shoulder. "I could probably get out of it, we're not too busy on Wednesdays. Why?"

"Well," she said, her fingers dancing across his chest as she came further out of her slumber. "Amelia offered to watch Rachel for the night," she said suggestively.

"So we can lock ourselves in here and have sex all night?" he asked. "That might be a little awkward at first, but I think we can get past it."

Cuddy sighed and shook her head, slapping him lightly on the chest. "No, I thought we could actually go out somewhere. Like normal people," she said.

House nodded and placed his hand on top of hers, "That works too," he said.

She smiled and disentangled her hand from his, moving it to the back of his neck. She lifted herself up and pressed her lips to his, her fingers running through his hair as their lips meshed together.

His hand ran up and down her back, and she pulled away, settling back into her pillow.

"No, " he whined, pulling her back towards him.

"House, it's almost four in the morning. I have to get up in three hours."

"That's more than enough time," he answered. Cuddy scoffed and pulled the covers up over her body, much to House's dismay.

"Goodnight House," she said sweetly, resting her head underneath the arm that was draped across her pillow.

House sighed and joined her all the way under the covers. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling contently as he watched her close her eyes.

"Goodnight Cuddy," he murmured.

* * *

Cuddy tiptoed around the room as she attempted to get ready the next morning. Her eyes kept darting back over to the bed, where House was sound asleep. She smiled softly as his muffled snores filled the room, and she reached behind her, zipping her skirt up.

The sound of her zipper awakened some sort of pavlovian response in him, and House immediately stirred, perking his head up at her.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and picked up her shoes from the floor, walking towards the bed.

She sat down on the bed and placed the shoes at her feet. "Want me to reset the alarm?" she asked. "Amelia will be here soon but Rachel might come and wake you up anyway."

"Doubtful," he said, releasing a slight yawn. Cuddy scrunched up her head in confusion and House sighed. "She might be a little difficult to wake up this morning," he said tentatively.

Cuddy glared at him, placing her hand on his arm. The juxtaposition of her warm hand and her stone cold glare were too much for him to handle. "What did you do?"

"_I _didn't do anything," he said. Cuddy raised her eyebrows doubtfully at him. "She found me in the kitchen when I got home last night."

"House, you got home at three in the morning. What was she doing up in the first place?"

House shrugged his shoulders. "She had a bad dream. Kids wake up in the middle of the night all the time, it's not a big deal."

Cuddy paused for a moment. "She had a bad dream?"

House nodded his head. "That's what I just said," he exclaimed. Cuddy removed her hand from his arm and cleared her throat.

She turned her attention back to her shoes and slipped them on, paying close attention to the straps; she was doing anything to avoid looking straight into his eyes.

House sat up, wary of her sudden silence. He rolled his eyes when he realized the cause for her muted state. "You can't be serious," he observed.

Cuddy turned towards him. "What are you talking about?" she asked, fiddling with the belt on her skirt.

"You're jealous," he said.

"That's ridiculous, House." Her heels clicked against the hardwood surface as she walked to the other side of the room where her mirror was.

She reached for a tube of mascara and began to apply it irritably. He caught her annoyed look in the mirror, and he sighed as he limped out of the bed.

"And yet it's true," he said, cautiously walking towards her.

Cuddy haphazardly threw the applicator next to her vanity mirror, and then turned towards him.

She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side, giving him a pointed look.

He glared right back, but she didn't budge. "Sorry," she said, uncrossing her arms and pointing at him. "I thought this was the part where you tell me I'm being completely irrational and then proceed to tell me my inner most thoughts, just in case I wasn't already aware of them."

"You are being completely irrational," he began. Cuddy rolled her eyes and began to fiddle with the buttons on her silk shirt.

"I don't have time for this," she said.

"You're being completely irrational," he began again, much to Cuddy's dismay. "And you think that just because you don't share the same DNA, she's going to wake up one morning and decide she doesn't like you anymore."

Cuddy stopped messing with her shirt, lifting her head up. "Like I said, I don't have time for this."

"Well you might want to make time," he said. She glared at him before walking towards the door.

Somehow, House managed to beat her to it. He shut the door, causing her to groan in frustration. "What are you doing?"

"I'm proving you wrong," he said simply. She sighed and a small smile breached her lips as she felt him inch closer her towards her. "You're upset because Rachel didn't come to you in the middle of the night. Which, by the way, is completely insane, because who honestly wants to be woken up by a five year old at three in the morning?"

Cuddy opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly hushed her as he continued.

"You've convinced yourself that you have to be a better mom than most, because you think you have something to prove. Last night Rachel told me that she was in control of her own dreams."

He took her hand and she smiled, lacing her fingers through his. "Now who does that sound like?" he asked, pulling her closer to him.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh, leaning into him. "DNA isn't everything, Cuddy."

She pressed her head to his chest, wrapping her arms around his stomach. He moved a hand to her back, rubbing slightly.

"I know," she whispered.

"Also," he began, causing Cuddy to move her head back slightly from his chest "she knew I wouldn't yell at her for drinking juice in the middle of the night. Smart kid you got there."

Cuddy scoffed before rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him. She had told him countless times that Rachel wasn't allowed to have sugar after eight.

"I have to go," she said. He tightened his grip on her, and she pressed her lips to his for a quick kiss. "I'll see you tonight?" she asked.

He nodded and she smiled at him before heading towards the door.

Cuddy made it to the hallway before hearing the excited shrieks of Rachel running towards her.

"Morning Mommy!" Cuddy smiled down at her and bent down, scooping her up into her arms.

"Well good morning," she said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. Rachel hugged her mother closer, resting her head on her shoulder.

House watched from the doorway, and even though her back was to him, he saw Cuddy let out a sigh of relief at Rachel's affection.

Rachel waved at him from Cuddy's shoulder, and he nodded at her. Cuddy began to walk them to the kitchen, and Rachel lifted her head slightly, her eyes darting to House.

He smirked as Rachel lifted a finger to her mouth and pursing her lips against it, signaling him to keep his promise from the night before.

* * *

"So Gregory, I hear you have big plans for the night." Amelia winked at him, and Joey slapped him approvingly on the back.

House took a bite out of one of the burgers that Amelia had brought for them. Somehow, it had become a tradition for the three of them to have lunch together.

"Cuddy is the one with the plans, not me. I'm just going along for the ride," he said, his mouthful. "And I meant that literally, in case you were wondering."

"You're disgusting," said Amelia.

"She didn't tell you where you were going?" asked Joey

House shook his head, taking another sloppy bite of his burger. "Nope," he answered.

"Does it ever worry you that she doesn't trust you enough to even tell you where you're going to dinner?" asked Amelia, a hint of snark in her voice.

Joey shot her a confused look, and House did a double take, his eyes widening at her boldness.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I have no idea where that came from." She darted her eyes towards House, who had an amused look on his face. "I think you've turned me into an asshole."

"He tends to do that to people," said Joey, giving her a smile. House rolled his eyes and Joey shrugged, a small laugh emitting from his lips. "I have to run to the back, try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

Amelia took a bite of her burger, eyeing House suspiciously. He matched her glare for glare, leaning his elbows on the bar in front of him.

Amelia leaned in closer, and then shot back, sitting up straight and squaring her shoulders.

"So," she began hesitantly. "Was it the drugs?"

For the second time that day, House did a double take. He hadn't expected the question to come from her; he didn't even know that she knew he was an addict.

House took a deep breath, his eyes darting to the back room, and Amelia quickly continued.

"The reason you and Lisa broke up," she clarified.

House sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He and Cuddy hadn't discussed the issue in quite a while, and he wasn't interested in sharing this part of his life with someone he barely knew.

"Don't worry," said Amelia, noting his nervous state. "Lisa didn't send me to fish for information. She never even told me about it."

"Then how did you—

"You underestimate me, House." Amelia sent him a pointed look and took a bite from her burger, shrugging her shoulders as she set it back down on the surface in front of her.

House folded his arms, squaring his shoulders as if he were about to go into battle. In a sense, he was. He used his addiction to put up walls between him and the people around him. So far, it had worked. Until those very people were the ones trying to break them down.

He wasn't interested in being saved; no matter how much he might need it.

"You're different than you were a couple of months ago. When you first got here, you were a little jumpy. And you were always reaching for something in your pocket, even if there was nothing there. Almost like it was a habit."

"Do people like the fact that you constantly delve into their psych without their permission?"

Amelia shook her head. "They hate it. But that's not the point."

"Then what is?" he asked, leaning closer towards her.

There was a look in her eyes that she couldn't quite place; he wasn't angry, and he definitely wasn't uninterested in what she had to say. She didn't dare bring it up, but she could have sworn she saw a small flicker of fear in his eyes.

"I don't peg you for a hardcore drug addict, though. I'm thinking something less serious. Prescription, most likely. Something to deal with the pain in your leg."

House uncrossed his arms, eying her suspiciously. He would never tell her this, but he was almost impressed with her observational skills.

Almost.

"Vicodin," he said directly.

Amelia nodded her head in understanding, sending him a sympathetic look.

"It's no longer an issue," he said. His voice was wary, and for the first time, he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself.

Amelia eyed him skeptically. Drug addictions didn't simply go away; he knew that, and she knew that. It's never an issue until the addict slips.

"You need her, House. And she needs you." Amelia smiled sadly at him, slipping out of her stool.

Her feet landed on the ground, and she leaned forward, her mass of blonde hair spilling over her shoulder.

"Don't screw this up," she said.

She shot him a genuine smile before turning around and heading to the back room. He didn't smile back, but their eyes met in an understanding look.

She wasn't being malicious or judgmental, and she wasn't going to run off and tell Cuddy all about their conversation. She was simply looking out for her best friend.

He didn't fault her for that.

After everything he had been through in the past six months, he _couldn't _fault her for that.

He reached to his back pocket, and let out a sigh as he realized it was empty. He'd been clean for months, and he didn't want to break his streak of sobriety.

But sometimes, knowing it was there was all he needed. The familiar feeling of the small, white, coated pill in his worn hand was more comforting than the pill itself.

Knowing that with one sweeping motion he could rid himself of the pain, even if it was only for a few hours. He was in control of the situation; he had all of the power.

House pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He heard the sound of Amelia's roaring laugh filling erupting from the other room. He sighed and reached into his pocket once again, this time pulling out his cell phone.

He dialed the familiar number and lifted the phone to his ear.

He smiled when he heard Cuddy's voice on the other end.

* * *

Cuddy leaned her head against the window, smiling contently as House drove.

"Why are you being so secretive?" asked House, feigning annoyance. They'd just finished dinner, and Cuddy was sitting in the passenger seat giving him directions left and right.

"I told you, it's a surprise," she said flatly. "Turn left up here."

"You hate surprises," he muttered.

"No," she said pointedly. "I hate _being _surprised. There's a difference."

"That is very hypocritical of you, Cuddy," he said, turning his head slightly to the right and facing her. He smiled smugly at her and she rolled her eyes.

"For once in your life, will you just listen to what I have to say?" House opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly cut him off. "Take the next right."

House furrowed his brow, sighing as he followed her directions. "I listen to you plenty," he said defensively.

Cuddy gave him a knowing glance, raising her eyebrows in opposition to his previous statement. He sighed, letting out a playful groan. "I'm listening to you now," he said, giving her a small smile.

"Please, you didn't listen to an entire word I said during dinner."

House looked over at her, trying to gauge her current emotion. She didn't seem angry or upset, but she wasn't exactly thrilled either. Amused was a possibility, but with Cuddy, you never knew. She had this knack for making you think she was feeling one way, when really, it was the complete opposite.

If he didn't find it so damn interesting, he'd be infuriated by it.

"That's because I was too busy staring at your boobs," he said jokingly. Cuddy rolled her eyes as he continued. "What? You can't just put them out there like that and then expect me not to be distracted."

"Fine," she said, a wicked grin appearing on her face. "Let's make it more interesting for you. Pull over," she ordered.

He shot her a suggestive look. "Okay, but if we get caught, I'm telling the cops this was all your idea. With a dress like that, they'll believe me."

Cuddy playfully shoved his arm. "I didn't mean for that," she said, opening the car door and stepping out as gracefully as possible; Four-inch heels didn't exactly go with cobblestone pathways.

"We're here," she said.

"Where is here, exactly?" he asked.

They were standing in front of what seemed to be an abandoned house; it was barely lit, and judging by the shape it was in, it had to be over a hundred years old. It was a two-story brick home, complete with two columns at the entryway, and a second floor balcony that seemed to go on for miles.

The cobblestone path lined the mostly unkempt grass that surrounded the home, and there was a small flowerbed at the right edge of the building. The garden was of course, completely disheveled, but there was something about the messiness that attracted Cuddy.

She liked to refer to it as organized chaos.

Cuddy took a deep breath, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her.

"Come on," she said, hooking her arm through his and clutching his bicep. There was a twinkle in her eye, and House smiled down at her.

"Is this the part where you lure me back to your lair and force me to have all kinds of kinky sex with you?" he asked as they walked towards the abandoned home.

Cuddy turned her head towards him. "You should be so lucky," she said flatly.

They reached the door, and Cuddy creaked it open tentatively. She removed her hand from his shoulder, lacing her fingers through his instead. She led him into the door, and they separated the minute they entered.

The room was dark, but not to the point where they couldn't see anything. The ceilings were high and the space was open, and all of the possessions of the previous owner had been left.

Books lined the bookshelves that surrounded the room, and there was a desk at the far corner. A couple of rocking chairs were situated in the middle of the room, and a table was placed between them.

"Where did you find this place, anyway?" asked House, curious as to how she'd come across this in the first place; dark, abandoned homes didn't exactly scream Lisa Cuddy.

"Amelia brought me and Rachel here one day," she said. She ran her fingers across the age-old books, and turned around to face House. "Apparently, the family just up and left around 1910. I'm sure they're all dead now, but nobody has any idea where they went, or why they left.

"So it's a mystery," he said. He limped towards her and placed his hands on her hips, bringing her closer to him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. "Something like that," she answered. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers lightly.

She pulled away, but left her hands on his chest. "But you can't touch anything. The Historical Society owns this, and they come and check on it every few weeks."

"So technically, we're breaking the law?" He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"We can leave if you want," she fired back.

His eyes moved towards hers and he tightened his grip on her as he shook is head.

"Let the games begin."

* * *

_A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I was rather pleased with the way it turned out. The next one is a continuation of this, so you have that to look forward to! Lave a review and let me know your thoughts c:_


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Hi everyone! I hope you've all had a lovely week-mine has been a little stressful, but writing this has definitely taken the edge off! Thank you for all of those who continue to read and review this. It really does mean a lot to know that you're still enjoying this story. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I would look for it in about a week or so. Anyway, read away!

* * *

"So," he asked, his eyes wandering up towards the ceiling as he examined the semi-lit room. "What exactly are we looking for?"

Cuddy turned her head towards him as she began to walk in the opposite direction. "I don't know," she answered, a wicked grin on her face. "You tell me."

House nodded, and even though the room was practically bitch black, and his back was to her, Cuddy could see the slight curve of his lips as a small smile formed on his face.

"And there is absolutely no way to know for sure what happened to the people that used to live here?" he asked skeptically.

"Barring a time machine, I'd say no, there's not," she answered, deadpan.

House turned to face her, tilting his head to the right as he took one last look around the room they were in. He limped towards her, staring her down, and she folded her arms across her chest defensively.

"You do realize what you've done, haven't you?"

She was silent, and she cocked her eyebrows suggestively, waiting for him to continue.

"You've given me a puzzle I can't solve." Cuddy frowned at him, staring in disbelief. Cases were different," he exasperated, noting the look of opposition on her face. "With cases I could always do an autopsy."

Cuddy nodded her head skeptically. "So that's it?" she asked, inching closer towards him. "You're not the least bit interested?"

She tilted her head to the right and cocked her hip out to the side in a way she _knew _drove him crazy, and she smiled smugly at him as she watched him shudder a breath.

"I didn't say that," he stated as he made futile attempts to compose himself. Her silhouette danced in the shadows, taunting him with every move. "I've just decided to change up the rules a bit."

Cuddy scoffed.

"The rules?"

"Yes," he answered. "We're no longer playing your game of "Where did the Missing Family Go", because let's be honest here, we both know what happened. They died."

Cuddy opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it when she realized he was right.

"We're going to figure something else out," he said.

"We are?" she asked suggestively, playing along with him. "And what might that be, exactly?"

He paused, giving her a sly smile and taking two steps closer to her, closing the gap between them. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned in towards her. Cuddy could practically feel his breath on her, but she didn't dare back away.

"You," he said smugly.

Cuddy snorted, backing away from him slightly.

"I'm serious," he said. "Now take out the candle you've been hiding in your purse since we got out of the car. It's dark in here."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of discontent before reaching into her purse, searching for the aforementioned—and what she thought was secret—candle.

House walked over to the empty space a few feet away and sat down, motioning for her to join him. "House," she said as she walked towards him. "What are you doing?"

She sat down across from him and handed him the candle, which he set in front of him. He watched as she leaned over into her purse, searching for a match. His eyes fell on the V-neck of her form fitting black dress, and he had to force himself to look away in order to answer her question.

"You're the one who wanted to play this game, Cuddy."

"No," she answered. "I wanted us to look around this abandoned house for fun. You're the one who turned it into an opportunity to delve into my psyche."

"You're little psychologist friend pulled the same crap with me the other day at the bar. Think of this as karmic payback on the basis of pure association."

"Amelia cornered you?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice. "What did she say?"

"Doesn't matter," he answered, shrugging her off. "Like I said, this is about you, not me."

"What is _this_ exactly?" she asked, striking the match in a seductive manner. House's mouth dropped slightly open, and she smirked at him as she leaned forward to light the candle that sat between them.

"It's a simple game, really." Her fists were still placed on the ground in front of her, and she was leaning towards him.

The light of the candle was flickering below her, and the subtle moves of the flame danced across her face.

"I ask you a simple yes or no question, and you answer." An unamused look crossed her face, and House sighed. "Fine, you can ask me things too," he relented.

Cuddy smirked and leaned back. "What's the catch?" she asked.

"No catch," he answered. "Just the truth."

"Really? What happens if you don't like what I have to say?"

He leaned towards her, his voice softening as he spoke. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Cuddy sighed as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. They were teetering on the edge of dangerous territory here.

Her eyes glistened in the candlelight, and House smiled wickedly at her.

"You're enjoying this too much," she observed. He smirked and let out a slight laugh, and she smiled as she laughed along with him. "Fine," she relented. "But I'm adding a rule."

House rolled his eyes. "Of course you are."

She narrowed her eyes at him before she continued. "If either of us wants an explanation to any given answer, the other person has to comply."

"That sounds an awful lot like the _exact opposite _of what I wanted," he responded flatly.

"Well as you've told me numerous times before, you can't always get what you want." He rolled his eyes at her, and she glared right back. "And you didn't let me finish," she said pointedly. "Once one of us is finished explaining an answer, we get to ask the other two questions back to back. And they can be follow up questions."

"Manipulation," he said. "I like it."

"Ready?" she asked playfully.

The flame's intensity increased in front of them, and Cuddy adjusted her legs so that they were lying to her side, her elbow propping her up against the hardwood floors.

"This could get us in a lot of trouble," he said.

His eyes met hers, and for a moment he swore he caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes—but he had a feeling she wouldn't back down.

She didn't.

"Are you scared, House?" she asked. She leaned her head towards her, and her hair cascaded down in front of her face, dangling close to the candle's flame.

"Depends," he said. "Are all of your questions going to be that easy?"

* * *

Her throaty laugh filled the room, and he smiled, glad for the familiar and comforting sound of her apparent amusement. So far, they had kept the conversation light; covering everything from embarrassing high school stories to one night stands that had gone _horribly _wrong.

She had more of those than she cared to admit.

Cuddy's shoes had been abandoned long ago, and she was sitting barefoot, her feet tucked underneath her as she propped herself up by her elbow. House had stretched his legs out, and he would lean forward occasionally, watching her as the dim light of the candle danced across the exposed skin on her leg.

"When was the first time you had sex?" he asked.

Surprisingly enough, this was the one part of her sexual history that he didn't know about.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not a yes or no question."

House shrugged. "I'm changing the rules. If you can invent them, I can alter them."

Cuddy stiffened her back as she sat up straight, debating on whether or not she should answer.

"Nineteen," she answered. House raised his eyebrows at her, silently begging for her to go on. She sighed as she gave into him. "It was the summer before I left for college. My mother told me that under no circumstances was I to come home pregnant during high school, so I promised myself that I would wait until I graduated."

"A loophole," said House, grinning at her. "Who was the lucky guy? Please tell me this isn't one of those lame after school specials where the girl saves herself and the guy can barely last two minutes."

Cuddy scoffed. "Nothing like that," she said pointedly. "His name was Ryan Matthews." She tilted her head back dreamily, and House eyed her suspiciously; he'd never heard her mention him before.

Cuddy bowed her head in embarrassment, scrunching up her face as she felt House's eyes piercing through her. He had this knack for getting her to divulge more information than she would care to share, and if she didn't find his curiosity so goddamn adorable, she would have clammed up hours ago.

"He was the student teacher for my AP Chemistry class during senior year."

House eyes widened in bewilderment. "You got deflowered by one of your teachers? Tell me you donned one of those Catholic School Girl Uniforms for the occasion."

"I'm Jewish," she reminded him. "And it wasn't like that, he was only seven years older than me." She leaned towards him, and his eyes immediately darted to the hint of exposed breast that her plunging neckline allowed for. "And for the record, he lasted a whole lot longer than two minutes."

House smirked at her, and she leaned back, pleased with her ability to silence him.

"My turn," she said pointedly. House motioned for her to continue, and she tilted her head, contemplating her next question. "Do you think things would have been different for us if you hadn't gotten expelled from Michigan?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. Cuddy's body flinched slightly, but her face didn't falter. "Ever reach out to Rachel's grandparents?"

Cuddy paused; the conversation was taking the inevitable turn to more serious subjects.

"No," she answered. She moved to right into her next question. "If I hadn't come to get you that night in the bar, what would you have done?"

"I don't know," he said softly. Cuddy swallowed hard, afraid that she had said the wrong thing. "Favorite type of candy?" he asked.

Cuddy smiled graciously at him, thankful for the sudden change in tone.

"Chocolate," she answered, tilting her head forward. Her hair spilled into her face, and he had to physically restrain himself from bending forward and tucking it behind her ear. "And not milk chocolate or white chocolate either. Dark chocolate," she said definitively.

"Bitter," he said observantly.

"At first, maybe," she said. "But it's an acquired taste. The first bite hits you like nothing you've ever tasted before, but after a while your taste buds start to adjust, and suddenly you find yourself craving it every minute of every day, even though you know you shouldn't have taken that first bite to begin with. "

"That doesn't sound too healthy, now does it?"

Cuddy raised her eyebrows at his boldness; they both knew they were no longer talking about just chocolate.

"Sometimes a little bit of bitterness is exactly what you need," she answered. "To balance you out, if nothing else."

The candle slowly began to flicker, and within seconds the light disappeared completely, leaving them in utter darkness. Cuddy jumped at the sudden disappearance of light, and House let out a slight laugh.

Cuddy fumbled around on the ground as she searched for her purse. She reached over closer towards House, her fingers accidentally grazing his as she felt around for her bag.

He caught her hand in his, and began to lightly run his hands across the top of her delicate fingers, eventually intertwining his hand with hers. He pulled her closer to him, and she leaned into him. Their lips managed to find each other in even the darkest of rooms, and she moaned into him as their lips crashed together.

He looped his hand around her waist, and she placed her hand on his chest, gripping the material of his shirt as his hand soothingly ran up and down her back.

She reluctantly pulled away, too afraid that if they continued this way neither one would be able to stop. She heard House sigh, and she sent him a glaring look, and he simply smiled innocently at her as he dropped his hand to her waist.

She was practically sitting in his lap at this point, but was careful to avoid his bad leg. She reached over him and grabbed her discarded purse, furrowing her brow as she searched through it frantically.

She smiled as she pulled another match from her purse.

"Game's not over yet," she said, striking it as she spoke.

* * *

Cuddy had situated herself between House's legs. Her head was resting contently against his chest, and his arms were wrapped tightly around her small frame.

She took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers as she ran her thumb across his hands, teasing him with every loving touch. He smiled into her hair, taking in her scent as he pressed a kiss to her head.

He sighed, his eyes moving to her. He wasn't sure why he was saying the words that were about to come out of his mouth, and his voice softened.

"If you could do it all over again, would you?"

Cuddy's face froze, and she felt him grip her hand, pausing all movement. She turned her head and her cheek pressed against his chest as her eyes met his.

"Yes," she answered definitively.

He raised his eyebrows. After everything that had happened between them, or rather, everything he had done, he had been prepared for a different answer.

House didn't ask for an explanation, but the look on his face and the feeling of his hand around hers urged her to continue.

"There were things I would have done differently," she said. Cuddy began to run her fingers over his hand once again, trying to soothe the fears that were evident in his eyes. "But I don't regret coming to you that first night."

She turned her head again, their eyes meeting once more. A slight smile had breached his lips, and she gave him a comforting look.

"I never have," she finished, shrugging her shoulders.

House didn't respond, and her words lingered in the air. Cuddy took a deep breath, and she felt his fingers wrap around hers, giving her hand a tight, comforting squeeze. She turned her head away from him as she returned to her previous position, nestling the back of her head against his chest.

Cuddy's eyes moved to the candle in front of her; the flame had yet to burn out.

"Favorite color?" she asked, shifting the mood. The question was mundane, but she realized she didn't actually know the answer; she knew his deepest and darkest secrets, his regrets and his struggles, but she didn't know his favorite color.

She wasn't sure what that said about her. Or them, for that matter.

"Grey," he answered immediately. His eyes fell on her, and he closed them, picturing the image of her grey orbs staring into him. He could practically see the slight flicker of blue that danced across her eyes, and he smiled—not that he would ever admit to her that _she _was the reason for his attraction to the rather drab color.

"Favorite song?" he asked.

She tilted her head to the left, contemplating. Even though her back was to him, he knew she was scrunching her face up as the wheels turned inside her head. In a moment or two, she would sigh and slightly tilt her head to the left once more before answering.

He smirked when she did just that.

"Beast of Burden," she answered. "Are you ever scared of what might happen if someone were to find out about your…situation?"

House sighed into her hair. So that's how they were going to play it. Keep it light for a minute or two, and then slam each other with what they _really _want to know.

"I wasn't at first," he began. Cuddy turned and shifted herself slightly, turning to face him. "Going back to jail doesn't scare me. It would suck, but it doesn't scare me. I'm more scared of what I might lose."

Cuddy's face softened, and she gripped his hand tighter than she had ever before. "You're not going to lose me, House."

"You say that now," he answered. "But you could change your mind. You've done it before."

"Which is why I don't plan on doing it again," she whispered, smiling up at him.

House shook his head in disbelief. "You are who you are, Cuddy. That hasn't changed."

Cuddy disentangled herself from him and turned completely around to face him. He reluctantly let go of her, and she sighed as she rested on her knees in front of him.

She brought a hand to her head and ran it through her hair, sighing again before she spoke. "I thought we were past this," she said. Her eyes met his and his face softened at her defeated look.

"You still don't trust me," he stated.

"That's not true," she said defensively, upset by his sudden accusation. She folded her arms across her chest and squared her shoulders, preparing herself for the words that might come out of his mouth.

"This isn't exactly debatable, Cuddy. It's a fact."

"Why do you have to believe the worst in people?" she asked, softening her face as she reached her hand out towards him. She rested her hand on the top of his thigh, and he shuddered a breath as he shook his head.

"I don't know," he answered. His head was bowed, and he refused to look up at her. Cuddy ignored his opposition and leaned closer towards him.

She lifted her hand to his face, her hand rubbing his cheek lightly. Her hand fell to his chin, and she lifted it ever so slightly, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"I told you I was in," she said, her hand falling away from him, "What part of that did you not hear?"

He sighed. "I heard it," he answered. Cuddy smiled slightly at him as his words reached her ears. "I just want to make sure _you _heard it."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, her smile widening. A confused look appeared on House's face, and Cuddy took his hand.

"House," she said seriously. He let out a small smirk at her administrating tone, and she took a deep breath before continuing. "I love you. I don't know how to _not _love you. And I know we don't have the healthiest of relationships, or the simplest, but I want to be with you. You make me a better person, and I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. So stop doubting me, and yourself for that matter, and just let yourself be happy."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she squeezed his hand. "You make it sound so easy," he said.

"It is," she answered. "It's not rocket science, House."

He shrugged. "I could probably do rocket science," he boasted.

Cuddy laughed, and she leaned in towards him. She pressed her lips to his gently, and his hand gripped her waist, reveling in her touch. He pulled away, and his eyes flickered to the flame in front of him. It was still burning, and he took that as a good sign.

"It's my turn," he said, letting her go. She fell back to her knees and sat next to him.

"Have you ever faked an orgasm before?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes at him, but was secretly glad for the change in topic; she hadn't meant for the night to turn out this way, even if she _had _encouraged it.

"Yes," she answered, slightly embarrassed.

House perked his head up. "Explain," he said.

"Absolutely not."

"You have to," he said simply. "You're the one who came up with that rule. Come on, you were more than willing to share how you got de-virginized."

"More than willing is a stretch," she said, glaring at him. He gave her a pleading look, and she sighed; she hated how easy it was for him to get underneath her skin.

"Well I'm not going to recreate it, if that's what you're looking for," she said smugly.

House's mouth opened slightly at the thought. The sound her of her orgasm had been perpetually etched into the back of his brain, and he would never tell her this, but it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

"I'm more curious as to who you had to fake it for," he said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not relevant," she answered.

"Why?" he asked, leaning towards her. "Is it someone I know? Because unless my dreams actually _did _come true and you and Thirteen got it on, that leaves Lucas. Unless…" He paused, and a worried look suddenly crossed his face, and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable about the situation he had put himself in. "You're not talking about me, are you?"

Cuddy scoffed. "No," she said.

"To which part? Because I'm caught in this awkward state where I don't know if I should be picturing you and Thirteen having sex, or worried that I haven't given you the necessary...affection."

"No, I've never had sex with Thirteen." Cuddy ignored the slight disappointment that crossed his face. "And no, I've never faked it with you."

"So it _was _Lucas," he said, nodding his head.

"Isn't it my turn to ask a question?" she asked, deflecting.

"Absolutely," he answered. "As soon as you answer mine."

"Fine," she said. "But just so you know, I never faked it with Lucas. Sorry to disappoint." House's face fell, and Cuddy rolled her eyes before continuing. "It was the first person I had sex with after that night between us in college. I spent the entire time thinking about how much I wished it were you instead, and I completely lost track of what he was doing."

"That story is so much better than I imagined," he said, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Cuddy shook her head. "I can't believe I told you that," she said.

"I used to masturbate to you all the time. Now we're even."

"Well that's comforting," she joked. She paused, eyeing him quizzically. "Did you really have fantasies about me and Thirteen?"

"You're telling me you didn't?"

Cuddy shook her head in amusement. Before she could answer, the flame of the candle flickered out, leaving them in complete darkness.

"Sorry," she said, deflecting the question. "Game's over. That was my last match."

Cuddy stood up, shaking off the dust that had collected on her dress. She held out her hand to help him up, and he took it. Once he was up, he slinked his arm around her waist.

"It's getting late anyway, we should head back soon," she said, turning towards him.

Her hand grazed his chest, and his eyes fell on hers. "Cuddy," he said seriously. She turned her head towards him, resting it in the crook of his neck as they made their way towards the door. "You're the only one I ever fantasize about."

They paused, and she smiled softly at him, tugging at his shirt gently. "Come on," she said, pulling away from him. She grabbed his hand and walked in front of him, turning around as she teasingly pulled him with her.

"I suddenly have the weirdest craving for dark chocolate."

* * *

A/N: _So I know not much happened in this chapter, but these were necessary conversations, and I wanted to do them in a sort of fun way. I hope you all enjoyed it! Leave a review on your way out! c:_

_-Alison_


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Hi everyone! I meant to get this chapter out sooner, but I had a bit of a family emergency. But everything's fine now, and writing this really helped to take my mind off of things. The chapter is kind of a filler, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Also, for those of you who watch Grey's, I'm about to watch the premiere. Wish me luck.

* * *

Cuddy placed her hand on House's shoulder warningly as he opened the door. "We should be quiet, Amelia is probably asleep."

House rolled his eyes as he turned his head towards her. "Doesn't she have her own home?" he asked as he opened the door.

"It's late," said Cuddy defensively. She cringed as he shut the door once she walked in; he made very little effort to muffle the sound. "She used to stay over all the time before you got here."

House paused. "When she was babysitting for you?"

Cuddy eyed him skeptically as she slipped out of her shoes. "Yes," she said, bending down to pick up her shoes.

"Were you always out this late?" he asked

"Game is over, House," she said, throwing her hands out to the side and shooting him a wicked grin.

"So now I'm not allowed to ask you questions?"

"You absolutely can," she said quietly, making her way towards the back of her home. She turned her head over her shoulder, giving him a knowing glance before continuing. "I just don't have to answer if I don't want to."

House followed her, slipping out of his jacket as he made futile attempts to catch up to her.

He sighed as she disappeared down the hall, heading in the direction of Rachel's bedroom. He watched her open the door and peek her head in.

House went in the opposite direction and opened the door to Cuddy's bedroom. He sat on the foot of her bed and slipped his shoes off, rubbing his temple as he processed the new information. He distinctly remembered her saying she hadn't had sex since him; he hadn't thought about the fact that dating and sex were sometimes mutually exclusive.

She emerged into her room a few minutes later.

Cuddy walked over to the vanity mirror on her dresser, bending down in front of it as she removed the earrings that had been placed in her ears hours ago. She didn't acknowledge House's presence, but his eyes widened as she bent over in her tight, black dress.

She smirked into the mirror as she saw him eyeing her.

"Well is she here?" he asked. He felt a bit silly for continuing the conversation, but he was curious—and Cuddy was being awfully mysterious, which she _knew _drove him crazy.

"She's sleeping in your room," she said, placing her earrings in their proper place. House opened his mouth in horror, and Cuddy sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's not like you're sleeping there," she said, noting his opposition.

"Well what if I wanted the option?" he asked, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He removed it, leaving him only in a white t-shirt.

Cuddy turned around, resting one hand on the edge of her dresser and cocking her hip out to the side. "You want to rethink that last statement?" she asked suggestively, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

His eyes slowly travelled up and down her body, and he momentarily forgot what they were talking about.

He grinned at her as he realized what she was doing.

House got up from the bed and limped towards her.

"You told me you hadn't slept with anyone else," he stated.

She scoffed as he reached her. "You hired hookers the day after we broke up and then you _married _one. You really think you're in a position to argue about this?" she asked playfully.

House shrugged. "I didn't lie about it," he said.

She eyed him suspiciously as she crossed her arms. "Neither did I," she quipped.

Cuddy strutted past him, patting him gently on the shoulder as she made her way to her closet.

House followed her, watching as she moved a hand to the back of her dress, struggling to find the zipper.

Seconds later, she felt his hands caressing her back as they wandered up and down. She sighed contently and moved her hair to one side, giving him easier access.

He slowly unzipped her dress, and she turned her head, smiling in appreciation as it fell to the ground.

She stepped out of it and turned to face him. She smiled as she saw him shudder a breath at her scantily clad form; her breasts were being held up by a black, lacy bra that matched her barely-there underwear.

She inched closer to him, taking one of his hands in hers. She placed it on her hip as she moved closer and ran her hand up his arm before wrapping it around his neck.

He gladly pulled her closer, smirking down at her.

"You know," she began suggestively, "I have dirt all over me from that old house."

His hand wrapped around her back, nipping at her exposed skin.

She moved her hands from his neck to his face, gently running her fingers over his cheek. "You don't look too clean yourself," she added.

"Are you calling me dirty, Dr. Cuddy?" he asked

She smiled up at him before lifting herself up on her tiptoes, pressing a small kiss to his lips. Her lips lingered on his for a moment before she pulled away, and his hands moved to her hips as her feet fell back to the ground.

"Depends," she said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I have a few ideas," he said.

She let out a slight laugh as she felt him pushing her out the door of her closet.

Much to House's dismay, Cuddy released herself from his grip, and walked past him.

She sauntered off towards her adjoining bathroom, and he paused, watching her walk. He saw her stop in the middle of her bedroom, and he took a deep breath as he saw her hand move to her back.

He watched as her fingers toyed with the clasp of her bra, his eyes widening as she swiftly removed it. She turned her head and shot him a wicked grin, and he smirked as he made his way over towards her.

House removed his flimsy t-shirt as he followed behind her, his mouth hanging slightly ajar as he watched the sway of her hips while she walked teasingly in front of him.

Once they were in the bathroom, House shut the door, and Cuddy slowly walked to the shower, leaning in as she turned the knob. House caught a peak of her exposed breast in the mirror that lined the opposite wall, and he smirked as he saw the mischievous look on her face.

She ran her hand through the water and jumped slightly at the cold temperature. She turned the knob all the way and walked back towards House, deciding to give it time to heat up.

"Was this one of your _ideas_?" she asked innocently, poking her bottom lip out ever so slightly.

He smirked at her and pulled her closer, his hands settling on the thin string of her underwear. He hooked his thumb under one of them and rubbed it across her exposed skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"This works for me," he said, swallowing hard. She smiled up at him as her hands gravitated towards the zipper of his pants. She tugged at the zipper, grinning wickedly as she felt him harden beneath her.

She shoved his pants down, and he stepped out of them, his hands moving back to her hips as quickly as possible.

He wrapped his arm around her and brought his lips to hers. His other hand expertly pulled at the lace material of her underwear as he gently pushed them down her thighs.

Cuddy parted her lips and deepened the kiss as one hand lavishly wrapped around his neck, the other gripping his bicep as she balanced herself and stepped out of her soon to be discarded underwear.

Their lips broke away momentarily, and Cuddy used this opportunity to remove his boxers. He linked his hands through hers as he stepped out of them, and just as they had done before, their bodies magnetized back to each other within seconds.

His lips crashed against hers, and she moaned into him. He backed her to the edge of the shower, and she felt the slight mist of the water spraying across her back.

"Is it hot enough?" he asked teasingly as he pulled his lips away from her.

Cuddy smirked as she stepped into the shower. "You have no idea," she answered, pulling him in with her.

The water trickled down her face, and House lifted a hand to her cheek, sliding it back and pushing her semi-drenched hair behind her ear. He brought his lips to hers once more. The kiss was gentle and loving, and Cuddy melted into him, her wet hands wrapping around his neck.

His hands travelled down to her ass, and he teasingly squeezed it, causing Cuddy to smile into the kiss.

Cuddy pulled away from him and reached for the loofa that was dangling from her showerhead. House watched as her body moved against his, her hands reaching behind him to grab the bottle of soap.

The water was beating down on the both of them, and steam was beginning to fill the glass-encased shower. Cuddy dragged the soap filled loofa across House's chest, and he ran his hand down her side as her hands caressed him.

House moved his hand up from her side, covering his over her own. He took the loofa from her, deciding to return the favor.

He started at her clavicle, dragging it down her body. Cuddy closed her eyes and moaned in response, as House's other hand gravitated to her hip. He watched as the soap began to trickle down her body, and he followed the trail that it had left.

He grazed the loofa down her chest, pausing at her already hardened nipples. He slowly moved it across her chest, and she threw her head back, relishing in his touch. The water continued to cascade down between them, and Cuddy moaned as the combination of the hot water and the feeling of his touch sent shivers down her spine.

Cuddy's eyes shot open, and within seconds House felt her hand covering his. She smiled wickedly at him before taking the loofa from him and throwing it to the ground.

"I think I'm clean enough," she said, smirking at him.

"God I hope not," he muttered.

Cuddy pressed her hands to his shoulder and playfully forced him backwards towards the small seat that was placed in the right corner of the shower; she saw his erection growing harder as he realized what she was about to do.

She pushed him down, and her hair fell in front of her, the droplets dripping onto his chest.

"Please tell me you were thinking about me when you had this built," he said, referring to the oh-so-convenient seat that Cuddy had provided him with.

Cuddy stepped between his legs, brushing against his length as she wrapped her hands around his neck. "It was here when I bought it," she answered. "But if it makes you feel better, you're the first person who's ever been in such a…compromising position."

House reached up to touch a breast that was just _begging _to be fondled, but was quickly distracted by the feeling of her lips on his. He closed his eyes, but his hand managed to find it anyway, and he massaged her as she slipped her tongue inside of his mouth.

Her fingers curled into the back of his neck, wrestling with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hand fell from her breast to her side, and he pulled her closer, and she felt the intense throbbing of his shaft against her leg.

Cuddy pulled her lips away from his and pressed her forehead against his. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and there was such an intensity there that neither one could bear to look away.

Her hands fell to his shoulder, and she began to kiss down the side of his neck. She slid down to her knees, her teeth scraping against his chest with every move.

"If this is the compromising position you were talking about, I hope I never have to leave," he said through ragged breath.

Cuddy rested her hand on his thigh, and looked up. "That's a little selfish, don't you think?" she teased

House shuddered a breath as he felt her kiss down his abdomen, and his hand moved to her shoulder, desperate to touch her. "You know I always return the favor," he said in a husky tone.

Cuddy smirked and House's head fell back to the wall behind him as he moaned in pleasure. She ran her tongue along his length teasingly, and House moved his hand from her shoulder to her head, his hands tugging at her hair.

Her tongue ran across him in every direction, and his chest tightened with the provocative feeling of her breath on him.

She paused at his tip and wrapped her lips around him as she gently bit down. She slowly released her teeth and began to suck, drawing in her breath.

House's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he entangled his hands in her hair even further, gripping at her locks for support.

She opened her mouth and took him fully into her mouth. She quickened her pace, her mouth sliding all the way to the edge of his cock and then quickly coming back to the very tip. She would pause at his tip, just to keep him guessing as to _just_ how long she could go.

Her nails dug into his thigh—she was careful to avoid his bad leg, and she rested her other hand on the seat next to his. She felt him lace his fingers through her free hand, and she smiled; even when it was all about him, he wanted to show her that he was right there with her.

She slowly slid her mouth to his tip, and teasingly released him from her mouth. But she glanced up at him wickedly, letting him know that she was nowhere near finished.

She blew on his tip, and removed her hand from his thigh, opting to run her fingers up and down his shaft as she taunted him.

"You know," he said through ragged breath, "If you ever get tired of being a doctor, you should really think about doing this professionally."

Her tongue ran across his length, and he tilted his head back as he let out a groan.

"That good huh?" she asked as her hand fully encircled him. Her thumb ran down his cock and she felt him grow harder and harder with every touch.

He simply nodded and moaned, unable to form a proper response.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said.

Within seconds her mouth was back on him. This time there was nothing slow about her movements; her head was rapidly moving up and down against him as she alternated between sucking at blowing, her teeth occasionally biting down on him.

She felt his hands begin to tremble in her hair, and she knew he was close; she made one last long, effortless movement that sent him over the edge.

His hips bucked and he thrust even further into her, causing her to let out a moan. His body shook and she gripped his hand as she tightened her lips on him, increasing the friction between them with every move of her tongue.

He let out a groan before completely coming undone inside of her, and Cuddy relaxed as he slowly came down from his high.

His panted as his body refused to let him take a deep breath, and Cuddy slowly removed her lips from him.

House held out his hand, and Cuddy smirked as she took it, allowing him to help her up.

She situated herself on his thigh, her eyes shifting towards the showerhead that continued to spray water onto them. "We should have turned the water off," she said guiltily.

After all, it wasn't like they _actually _used it for it's proper purpose.

"That would have been way less fun," said House mockingly.

Cuddy smirked and reached up to turn it off, rolling her eyes at him. She turned her head back towards him, resting one hand on his chest.

She pressed her lips to his, and his hand moved to her cheek, his thumb running across it lovingly as their lips meshed together.

Cuddy reluctantly pulled away, but she rested her forehead against his. "We should probably get some sleep," she whispered.

"Probably," he answered, a devilish grin on his face.

Cuddy stood up and walked towards the edge of the shower. She grabbed a towel from the rack and tossed it to him before grabbing one for herself.

He watched as she gracefully wrapped the towel around her seemingly never-ending body, and he shuddered a breath as he watched the towel drape over her perfect form.

He stood up and wrapped it around his waist, following her as she made her way back to her bedroom.

Cuddy ran a hand through the unruly curls that had formed in her hair, doing her best to ring out the locks. She paused in the middle of the room and turned her head; her eyes darted from the bed to where House stood, as if she were contemplating her next move.

He smirked as he watched the towel slowly drop from her body.

Sleep was the exact opposite of what Cuddy wanted.

* * *

Lisa Cuddy took a long, generous sip of her latte, closing her eyes as the caffeinated drink trickled down her throat.

"Long night?" asked Amelia, raising her eyebrows suggestively. Amelia took a sip as well, although hers looked much less needed.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes as she set her coffee back on the table. "Interesting is more like it."

Amelia nodded her head and took another sip. "Well at least you're having sex." Cuddy rolled her eyes at Amelia's bluntness and apparent self-deprecation. "That's more than I can say for me."

"No sex beats an unhappy marriage," Cuddy offered, attempting to make Amelia feel better.

Amelia nodded and shrugged her shoulders, a slight smile appearing on her face as she took another sip. "Oh, I forgot to tell you! I was talking to one of my Professors yesterday, and she's planning to do a study in France next spring."

"France?" asked Cuddy, interested. She set her coffee down on the table, focusing her attention on Amelia.

Amelia nodded her head excitedly. "And she's taking applicants for an assistant, and I thought if it was okay with you, I might apply?"

Cuddy smiled widely at her. "Amelia, of course you can apply. You baby sit my daughter, I'm not holding you captive."

"I would only be gone for a month, and I can recommend you some great nannies for while I'm gone. Or…"

"Or what?" asked Cuddy

Amelia smiled at her before taking another sip of her coffee. "Or you could just come with me."

Cuddy scoffed and shook her head, prompting Amelia to continue.

"I'm serious," she said. "Rachel will be out of school and you won't have to teach. It's perfect! And I know you've always wanted to go."

"I can't take an entire month off of work," said Cuddy, lifting her cup to her lips.

"You wouldn't have to stay for the whole month," she argued. "You could manage two weeks though. When was the last time you had a vacation, anyway?"

Cuddy sighed and shook her head. As pathetic as it was, she couldn't even remember.

"Don't you think it's a little early to be talking about this? You haven't even applied yet."

Amelia shook her head and pulled her long blonde hair over her left shoulder. "It's never too early to fantasize, Lisa. Just do me one favor, okay?"

Cuddy tilted her head and pursed her lips, waiting for Amelia to continue. "Close your eyes," Amelia ordered.

Cuddy sighed before obeying, her eyes reluctantly closing at the sound of Amelia's voice.

"Okay," she began. "Now I want you to picture the two us lying on a beach in France. It's about 20 degrees warmer than it is now, and you're not worried about anything at all."

"Where's Rachel?" interrupted Cuddy. Her eyes were still closed, but her shoulders were squared; she was clearly not relaxed.

Amelia glared at her, and even though she couldn't see it, Cuddy felt her eyes on her. She dropped her shoulders, trying to relax.

"Her and House are off building a sandcastle together," said Amelia, thinking off the top of her head.

Cuddy smiled at the thought, and quickly tried to cover it up. Amelia smirked before continuing.

"We could even be topless, if you want," joked Amelia.

"Oh, I would pay money to see that," said a voice from the distance.

Cuddy's eyes flew immediately open as she recognized the voice, and Amelia's heart began to race as she saw her former flame coming towards them.

"Charlie?" Amelia stammered. "What are you doing here?"

Cuddy froze, her eyes darting back and forth between Amelia and Charlie. She had two choices; she could either stay, act as Amelia's buffer and endure painfully awkward conversation, or she could leave. She noted the look of desperation on Amelia's face and _knew _she should pick the former, but for some reason she found herself slowly removing herself from the situation; it was for Amelia's own good, really.

Rationalize.

House was definitely rubbing off on her.

"You know what, I've actually got to go. I promised House I would drop by before heading back to work," said Cuddy.

Amelia glared at her, and Cuddy shrugged, faking a smile. "It was good to see you, Charlie," said Cuddy.

She momentarily placed her hand on Amelia's shoulder before making her way towards the door.

"Hey," said Charlie softly.

Amelia sighed and smiled sadly at him. She got up from her chair and tentatively wrapped her arms around him. "Hey," she said, pulling him into a hug.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, letting him go and returning to her seat.

Charlie took the seat that Cuddy had occupied only moments ago. "I still have some stuff in storage that I need to get," he explained.

"I would have sent it to you," she said.

Charlie shook his head. "I didn't want to bother you. Besides, with the way we left things…"

"Right," said Amelia, her eyes suddenly focused on the half empty cup in front of her. "Would it help if I apologized again?"

Charlie chuckled at her offer. "No," he said. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"But I am," she said, reaching her hand towards him. "Sorry, that is." She covered her hand over his, and he sighed, quickly removing it from her grasp.

"For what? You didn't want to marry me. You shouldn't have to apologize for that."

"I know," she answered, looking up to meet his eyes. "But I don't know what else to say."

"I don't want you to say anything. I'm only here for two days, and to be completely honest, I wasn't even sure I was going to call you. But then I came to get coffee and saw that you were already here, so."

"Fate kind of took it out of your hands," she finished. Charlie nodded and she ran a hand through her hair nervously. "So how are you? How's Chicago?"

"Listen Amelia, we don't have to…"

"Don't have to what?" she asked, interrupting him. "Be civil to each other?"

"That's not what I meant," he answered. He took a deep breath, and Amelia placed her hands on the table, gripping the edge before she spoke.

"Just because I didn't want to marry you doesn't mean that I didn't love you," she said, softly. "Because I did."

"Just not enough to spend the rest of your life with me," he said sadly.

Amelia closed her eyes, and Charlie leaned in closer. "Look, it's okay. I don't want you to feel guilty about this. This is nobody's fault. It just didn't work out."

"You were always too sweet to me," she said.

"I guess that was part of the problem," he said, half-jokingly.

Amelia bowed her head, not quite knowing what to say. He had caught her off guard, and that was one thing she rarely ever allowed to happen. He knew that, and he was doing his best to comfort her.

He was being Charlie, and for once, she didn't hate him for it.

"Just promise me one thing," he said. Amelia lifted her head up, her eyes meeting his. "Be happy. Go find whatever it is that I couldn't give to you."

Amelia's eyes slowly began to fill with tears, and she stood up, trying her best to shrug them off. Charlie mimicked her actions, and placed a comforting hand on her arm.

"I should go," he said. "I've got a lot of boxes to pack up."

"Right," she said, her voice hoarse from the tears that were threatening to escape. "Good luck in Chicago," she said.

He nodded before letting out a slight laugh, pulling her in for another hug. Amelia laughed into his shoulder, wiping away a tear as his hand gently ran up and down her back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. His hand paused and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry too," he said.

He pulled away from her and lifted his thumb to her cheek, wiping away another tear.

"I'll see you around?" she asked. She knew that the likelihood of them crossing paths again was slim to none, but there was something comforting in the less definitive and final phrase.

Charlie shook his head, giving her one last look. "Goodbye, Amelia."

He walked away from her, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. She watched him as he walked out of the door, and she knew the image of the back of his head would be etched into her brain for a long time.

"Bye," she whispered.

He couldn't hear her, but she couldn't help but let the muffled word escape from her lips.

* * *

Cuddy sauntered into the bar as she took a quick glance at her watch; she had about twenty minutes before she had to get back to work. She ran a hand through her hair before opening the door.

House and Joey were sitting at the bar, and they didn't even notice when she came in. Papers were strewn across in front of the both of them, and there were half eaten sandwiches to their left.

Cuddy smirked as she noticed House was wearing his glasses. She would never admit it to him, but she secretly loved when he wore them.

"Everything okay in here?" she asked. House turned his head at the sound of her voice, a small smile escaping his lips.

"Just peachy," said House sarcastically. Joey rolled his eyes, and Cuddy shot him a glare. "Joey here lost a thousand dollars. Don't let the broodiness and tattoos fool you, he really _is_, that dumb."

Cuddy sat down on the stool next to House. She placed her hand on his back and rubbed it gently.

"I didn't _lose _the money," said Joey, ignoring House and turning to Cuddy. "I just don't know exactly where it is at the moment."

Cuddy smiled sadly at him and let the hand that was placed on House's back fall to her side.

"Well maybe I can help," she offered. "I have twenty minutes before I have to get back to work, that's plenty of time."

House turned his head towards her. "You just can't shake that administrator in you, can you?" he said, somewhat patronizingly. Cuddy narrowed her eyes, and House dropped his shoulders. "She's right," he said, causing Cuddy to glance up with a look of adoration in his eyes. "She knows this stuff."

Joey smiled in appreciation and gathered up his records the best he could, handing them Cuddy in a giant heap.

Cuddy took them into her hands, a worried look on her face. House watched as she squared her shoulders and stuck the tip of her tongue out of her mouth; it was her "don't mess with me, I'm busy" face.

Cuddy placed the files on top of the bar and stood up, slipping out of her blazer. She was left in a tight fitting sleeveless top. House let out an inappropriate whistle, and Joey laughed as Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him and tried to hide the slight blushing that was appearing on her face.

"Hand me the papers you're holding," she ordered House.

"Yes Master," he said playfully, his voice deepening as he spoke. He slid the papers over to her, and a small smile breached Cuddy's lips. She carefully laid out the 20 or so papers that she had in front of her, making attempts to organize them in some fashion.

"And you're saying you lost a thousand dollars?" she asked, confused by his dilemma.

"Yes," said Joey, somewhat embarrassed. "Sales indicate that we should have more money than we actually do, but I've gone over and over it and I can't find it anywhere."

"And you've paid all your bills?" she asked, thumbing through the papers as her eyes glossed over the sheets.

She bent forward, and House followed, his eyes settling on her breasts. Cuddy turned her head towards him, feigning annoyance. "Are you twelve?" she asked

House shook his head. "Fourteen, actually," he joked.

Cuddy ignored him and turned her focus back to Joey. Joey nodded in response to her last question.

"Hand me that expense report," she said, pointing to the one closest to House. House picked it up and handed to her.

Cuddy squinted her eyes and then smiled, trying not to laugh as she set the report down. House eyed her suspiciously, knowing she had found the answer. What he couldn't figure was why she was nervously trying to contain her laughter.

"What is it?" asked Joey nervously.

Cuddy pushed the report towards House and pointed to a box down towards the bottom. House groaned when he realized what had happened.

"You idiot," he said, turning towards Joey.

Cuddy swatted him on the shoulder. "It's really not a big deal," she said doing her best to comfort him. "You would have spent the money eventually."

"Are either of you going to fill me in, or am I just supposed to have some type of epiphany and suddenly it will all make sense?"

Cuddy bit down on her lip, suppressing her laughter. House pulled off his glasses and set them on the table.

He slid the report towards Joey. "You ordered triple the amount of toilet paper you normally do."

Joey took the paper into his hands, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You've got to be kidding me," he said quietly, mulling over the report.

Cuddy shook her head and got up from the stool. House followed and grabbed her abandoned blazer. "Those decimal points can sure be tricky," he said.

He stood behind Cuddy and opened up her blazer for her, and she turned her head, smiling sweetly at him before slipping her arms through. She flipped her hair behind her and buttoned it up.

"Well thank you for you help," said Joey. "I would have sat here for hours before I figured it out."

"It was no trouble at all. I've dealt with much bigger monetary issues than that. You should ask House about the time he lost me and my hospital One Hundred Million dollars."

"She's making it seem a lot worse than it is," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

"No," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "I'm not." Joey smirked and House rolled his eyes. Cuddy's hand gripped his bicep, and she leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "I'll see you later tonight," she said, smiling up at him.

House nodded, and Cuddy turned to walk towards the door. She was met with the sight of Amelia rushing in, her hair whipping behind her.

Cuddy paused her strides, and Joey immediately perked, causing House to roll his eyes.

Amelia pulled a ponytail holder from her unusually small wrist and threw her hair up messily, a frustrated look on her face.

"It's like the universe woke up today and said, 'Let's take a giant shit on Amelia and see what happens'," she said, whizzing past Cuddy and taking a seat at the bar.

House shrugged his shoulders and turned towards Joey. "I told you all that toilet paper would come in handy."

* * *

_I've never written a blow job before. _

_That was fun. _

_-Alison_


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **It's practically three in the morning here, but I just finished this chapter, so I figured I might as well go ahead and update. This one is kind of long, but I didn't think you all would mind. Also, just a heads up: this chapter is kind of the catalyst for the gradual progression to the end of the story. I still have a couple of plot lines to tie up (and introduce, muwhahahah) but there isn't going to be _too _much left. Anyway, read away!

* * *

Cuddy stood at the kitchen sink, nursing a cup of coffee as the sun gleamed through the small window. She felt the rays trickle across her face as the clouds moved through the sky, and she smiled, relishing in the silence.

She brought the mug to her lips and took a long, drawn out sip, sighing in content as the bitter taste tickled her tongue. It was nearing ten on a Saturday morning, and she'd already taken Rachel to a friend's house for the day, spent some much needed quality time with her yoga mat, and looked over some patient files.

Her eyes darted back to her room; House had yet to emerge, and she shook her head as she walked over to the kitchen table. She picked up the newspaper and lazily thumbed through it, skimming the headlines and reading the occasional article.

Suddenly she found herself in the Obituary section, and she swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of what exactly House had done. She paused, her eyes darting back to her room where he was sleeping. Cuddy quickly shut the newspaper, trying to push the thoughts out of her mind.

It was his decision, and while she didn't necessarily condone it, she understood his reasoning. Well, as much as she was _ever _going to understand him.

Cuddy shook her head and took a deep breath as she picked up the paper. She hastily threw it in the trashcan and went to refill her coffee.

The sun peaked through the window once more, and Cuddy relaxed as she watched the steaming liquid fall into her mug.

The sound of a door creaking open interrupted her thoughts, and she smiled as she heard the sound of House's heavy footsteps walking towards her.

"Hey," House walked into the kitchen, and Cuddy turned her head, a smile appearing on her face.

House was dressed in his usual flannel pajama pants, and was wearing a t-shirt that hung loosely on his body but fit snugly across his well-defined arms.

"Hey," she said. House stifled a yawn and rubbed his leg as he walked towards Cuddy. She sent him a sympathetic glance, which he quickly dismissed.

She handed him a cup of coffee, which he promptly set down, deciding to take her in his arms instead. She smiled sweetly at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I didn't even hear you come in last night," she said.

House shrugged his shoulders. "It was late," he said, placing his hands on her tiny waist. "I didn't want to wake you up."

Cuddy nodded and he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers for the briefest of moments as his hand slid underneath the form fitting tank top that clung to her hip.

He pulled back, a confused look on his face. "Why is it so quiet?" he asked, his eyes darting around the room.

Cuddy smirked as her fingers playfully tugged at the hairs on the nape of his neck. "I dropped Rachel off at Emma's house about an hour ago. Her mom is taking them to the park, and then to see some new Princess movie."

"That should be a letdown compared to all the monster truck shows I take her to while you're at work," he joked.

Cuddy shook her head and released her hands from him. He leaned his back against the counter and grabbed his cup of coffee, and she mimicked his actions, standing as close to him as possible. Their shoulders touched, and he smirked back down at her.

A sudden pain shot through his leg and he winced, almost collapsing to the floor. Cuddy immediately jumped from her relaxed state, her hands gripping across his back as she tried to steady him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned. House nodded and continued to rub his leg.

"Fine," he said as he slowly stood back up. Cuddy rubbed his shoulder; the concern was still evident in her eyes, and House removed his hand form his leg, covering his hers instead. "Really, I'm fine. We were busy last night so I was on my feet the whole night."

"You're always busy on Friday night," she said, calling his bluff.

House narrowed his eyes at her, refusing to admit that she was right. "Bachelorette party. Don't worry, if you ask Bill Clinton, I wasn't even cheating."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Hillary wasn't so convinced," she muttered. Once House had regained his balance, he picked up his cup of coffee and moved over to the kitchen table.

Cuddy watched as he limped towards the table and she sighed, opening up the drawer to her right and rummaging around for some ibuprofen.

She grabbed the bottle and walked it over to him, placing it gently in front of him. He wordlessly unscrewed the bottle and plopped two pills onto the table. He momentarily considered taking three, but decided against it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked

"I will be once you stop pestering me about it," he spit back. Cuddy took a deep breath and sat back, and House took another sip of his coffee.

They were silent for a few minutes, Cuddy silently fuming to herself, and House trying not to think about the thoughts that were bound to be going through her head. His drug use, his emotional stability, his inability to let people in; he knew that these were things that sometimes kept her up at night—he also knew there was virtually nothing he could do about it.

Cuddy drummed her fingers on the table, looking for a distraction. When that didn't work, she began to drag her finger across the rim of her coffee mug.

House peered over at her, watching as she intently stared into her half empty coffee cup.

"Cuddy," he said, his eyes still on her. Cuddy paused the movement her finger was making and looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. "Stop worrying," he said.

Cuddy sheepishly pushed the mug in front of her. "House," she began, turning to face him. "If the pain in your leg is getting worse, you might think about seeing someone."

"It's not getting worse, and I won't think about seeing anyone, because there's nothing to be done. It just hurts. I'll find a way to deal with it," he said, shrugging her off.

"That's what I'm worried about," she muttered. "I would just hate to see you fall back into old habits, that's all."

"You don't have to worry about that," he said. Cuddy sighed, opening her mouth to protest, but House quickly hushed her. "I'm fine. I don't want to take drugs. Happy? Now can we please talk about something else? Lovely weather we're having," he said mockingly.

"You're an ass," she said. She shook her head and picked up her coffee cup, taking it to the sink.

Cuddy ran the mug under hot water, scrubbing it incessantly. House got up from his chair, walking towards her.

"You're mad," he said.

"No I'm not," she answered, her eyes never leaving the mug in front of her. She placed the mug in the sink and turned to face him. "I'm just…

"Worried," he interrupted.

Cuddy bowed her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I believe you when you say you don't want to take drugs," she said. He stood in front of her and tenderly placed his hand on her elbow, causing her to look up. "But wanting something and actually achieving it are two very different things," she said.

House nodded in understanding. She made sense. He hated that she made sense. He hated _admitting _that she made sense.

But he did it anyway.

"You're right," he said. She reached across her body and gripped the hand that was holding on to her. "But I'm always going to be in pain. And I'm always going to be a drug addict."

"I know," she said.

"You're just going to have to trust me when I say that I haven't slipped." She intertwined her fingers through his, running her thumb over his worn hands. "And I haven't slipped," he said.

"Okay," she said, looking up at him. She tightened the grip on his hand and he nodded at her.

He lifted his free hand to her cheek, wiping away a loose soap sud that had found it's way to her cheek. "You got a little something here," he said, wiping it away and flicking it off of his hand.

Cuddy giggled and moved closer to him, disentangling her hands from his and moving them to his waist. She bunched his t-shirt in her hands and pulled him closer to her, pressing her lips to his.

His hand moved to the back of her neck, deepening this kiss ever so slightly. She pulled away before it got too far, smiling up at him.

"We should get dressed," she said

"Okay," he said. "As long as that's code for ripping each other's clothes off."

She gently smacked him on the chest, playfully glaring at him as she spoke. "I'm serious," she said.

"So am I," he answered, moving his hand back to her hips and slowly inching her tank top up.

Cuddy pulled away from him and walked out of the kitchen and towards her bedroom. "If we don't leave soon we'll never finish by the time I have to pick up Rachel."

House groaned as he followed her back towards her room. He didn't even want to think about what she could _possibly _have up her sleeve.

* * *

House stood a few feet behind Cuddy, pretending to stare into the window of the store, when he was really staring at her ass.

She was wearing this pair of jeans that he could have sworn were crafted just for her, and she had on a crisp, white, oxford button down shirt that showed just the right amount of cleavage.

She'd slipped into a pair of black suede ankle boots with a heel that would intimidate most women, but Cuddy had accepted the challenge gracefully; she had yet to falter in her step, and he doubted she ever would.

Cuddy saw his eyes leering at her through the reflection on the mirror, and she raised her eyebrows suggestively. "Are you going to go in or stare at my ass all day long?"

House took a few steps towards her. "Is that really a question?" he asked

Cuddy scoffed, feigning annoyance. "Come on," she said, extending her hand to him. "I'm sick of you stealing my car."

He laced his hands through hers and caught up to her. They walked into the store and were met with rows and rows of motorcycles. Flashes of patent leather and bright colors blinded his eyes and he took a deep breath, causing Cuddy to smile at him.

He eyed her suspiciously. "You hate that I ride motorcycles," he said.

Cuddy crossed her arms and tilted her head. "No I don't," she said. He was only halfway convinced, and he shook his head as she walked over to one."

"What about this one?" she asked. House limped over towards her, took one look, and scrunched up in his face in disgust.

"No," he said, quickly moving on to the next one. "That's too flashy."

"It's a motorcycle. Aren't they all flashy?"

House shook his head as he examined the other ones. Cuddy looked back once more at the one she had selected, and scoffed; he was right, there were about seven different colors on the bike, and it had flames running down the side.

"Fine," she said, realizing that he didn't actually need her help. "I'll just stand over here while you…shop."

She smirked when he didn't even acknowledge her. He was too busy inspecting each bike; touching it, smelling it, basically anything that involved one of the five senses.

Cuddy walked over to the helmets, desperate for something to do. She randomly picked one up and started playing with it, turning it in every which direction.

She turned it over and looked inside of it, tilting her head to the left. She didn't even notice the sales associate who had made his way over to her.

"You like to ride?" asked the employee. Cuddy slightly jumped, startled by the sudden interruption.

"Excuse me?" she asked, somewhat defensively.

The guy appeared to be in his mid-thirties, and was dressed head to toe in black. She saw a hint of a tattoo peaking out from the sleeve of his shirt and a nametag at the top, and she began to relax as she realized he worked there.

"If you're looking for a new helmet, you might want to start over there," he said, pointing to a selection of helmets on the wall opposite of her. "These are all for men," he said, somewhat smugly.

Cuddy set the helmet down and cleared her throat. "Oh, I'm just here with someone. Motorcycles aren't really my thing."

She saw his eyes pan up and down her body, and she folded her arms across her chest, suddenly very uncomfortable. She scanned the store for House, sighing when he was nowhere to be found.

"Really?" he asked. "Could have fooled me. Those boots alone scream—"

Cuddy's mouth dropped slightly, and she pulled her arms tighter across her body. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard House's voice bellow through the store.

"Cuddy!" he yelled, calling her over.

Cuddy shot the associate a small smile. "Excuse me," she said.

"Well if you need any help, I'm Tom," he said, giving her a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, quickly dismissing him.

She walked away, shaking out her nerves with every step. She found House staring intently at a motorcycle, with one arm across his chest and one resting on the side of his forehead.

He heard the click of her heels coming towards him, and he looked over towards her, giving her a sly grin.

"You couldn't have called me over here five minutes ago?" she asked.

House shrugged his shoulders. "I was busy. Besides, it seemed like you had it under control."

Cuddy scoffed. "You hate when other men flirt with me," she said.

"True," said House, nodding at her. "But watching the defeated look come across their poor pathetic faces is just as rewarding."

Cuddy shook her head and shifted her eyes towards the bike in front of her. It was similar to his old one, but had a splash of electric blue instead of orange. It wasn't big or gaudy, like most motorcycles, but you certainly wouldn't miss it if it were racing down the road next to you.

"This the one?" she asked, nodding her head to the bike in front of her.

"Think so," he said, nodding along with her. He turned his head towards her, a smug grin on his face. "Think you could get you friend to give me a discount? Tell him you're only with me because you feel sorry for me. Bum leg and all." he asked mockingly.

"I assume you squirreled all of your money away at some point," she said, ignoring him.

House nodded. "It was genius, actually. I ended up putting it—

Cuddy held up her hand, cutting him off. "I don't want to know," she said. "Plausible deniability," she muttered.

"What are the chances of you getting on the back of this thing?" he asked, a hint of pleading in his voice.

"I'd say somewhere between no way in hell and fat chance," she answered.

"Killjoy," he said, bumping his shoulder against hers.

Cuddy smiled and let out a slight laugh.

"Fine," he said. "But you have no idea what you're missing."

* * *

About half an hour later, the bike had been purchased. House was standing in front of it, and Cuddy was standing halfway between the motorcycle and her car. One foot was planted firmly in the direction of her Lexus SUV, and the other was slightly pointed towards House and the bike.

House smirked and reached into the back of the bike and pulled out a helmet, playfully shoving it in her direction. "I bought you one just in case you changed your mind," he said.

Cuddy sighed and ran a hand through her hair nervously. Her eyes darted between him and the door to her car, before sighing once more. She dropped her hands to her side in an exasperated manner and walked towards him.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," she said.

He smirked as he sat down on the seat, holding his hand out to her. She shook her head and dropped her shoulders as she reluctantly took his hand. He pulled her towards him, and she paused, inches away from the bike.

She bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes darting back and forth.

"Stop worrying and get on," he said, purposefully trying to irritate her.

Cuddy dropped her hand from his and sent him a glaring look, the fear practically disappearing from her eyes. She expertly flung one leg over the side, hooking her heel into the side.

She sat down behind him and placed her other foot into the slot on the opposite side and wrapped her hands around House's waist. She scooted up closer to him, her chest pressed tightly against his back.

"If this ruins my shoes you're buying me a new pair," she said warningly.

House ignored her and started up the motorcycle, a smirk on his face as he felt her cling tighter to him.

They sped off down the road, House's hands gripping the handlebars as he expertly maneuvered them through the streets, and Cuddy's nails nervously digging into his sides.

Her hair was whipping through the wind, and she eventually felt her lips curving into a slight smile. The engine of the motorcycle droned out the noise of the bustling city, and Cuddy let her chin gravitate to the crook of House's shoulder.

She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. They whipped around a corner, and even though her eyes were closed and she had no visibility, she wasn't scared.

Cuddy felt House take a relaxing breath, and she smiled, glad that he was able to find some sense of calm; even if it meant driving well over the speed limit on something that virtually had no doors, let alone a roof.

They drove for what seemed like hours. In reality it had only been about thirty minutes. But House didn't have a plan, and he didn't exactly know where he was going, and for once, that thought didn't terrify her.

After a while, House parked in front of a café. They ended up driving to the main drag of the city, near the National Mall.

House got off of the bike first, grabbing his cane and putting his helmet up. He watched as Cuddy removed her helmet and did her best to tame her hair, smirking at the frustrated look on her face. He held out his hand and she took it, hopping off of the bike.

"I told you you had nothing to worry about," he said. He didn't let go of her hand, and she made quick strides to catch up with him.

"That was actually…kind of fun," she said, smiling up at him.

"I'm glad. I know fun is a very foreign concept to you," he said mockingly.

She smacked him playfully on the arm, and he smirked, pulling her closer.

"Come on," he said, leading her to the door of the restaurant. "You can buy me lunch."

* * *

Cuddy took a sip of her beer, and sighed, setting it back on the table.

"I forgot how good beer was," she said. House let out a slight chuckle as she moved her salad around with her fork.

"I seem to remember you _really _liking beer in college."

Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him. "I liked a lot of things that were bad for me in college," she muttered. House gave her a triumphant look and she smirked. "Like pizza," she clarified.

She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was talking about him.

"Pizza?" he said, somewhat suspiciously.

Cuddy nodded and took another swig of her beer, smiling into the bottle.

"I did a lot of bad things in college too," he said.

"Like getting expelled?" she asked.

"Yeah. And that time I released all of those rats from their cages," he joked.

Cuddy widened her eyes. "That was you?" she asked. "My roommate and I found one in our bathroom. I was scared to shower for an entire week."

"You should have told me. I would have let you shower at my place," he said.

Cuddy shook her head. "I didn't know you then. Why'd you do it?"

"The guy who was running the experiment had screwed up his results. If he'd kept going, he would have killed them all," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"So you let them go?" she asked, eyeing him quizzically.

"I was softer then," said House mockingly. "And that's a lie," he said, taking a sip of his own beer.

"What is?" she asked.

He firmly set his beer on the table in front of him and leaned closer. "You knew exactly who I was when I released those rats."

Cuddy straightened up and ran a hand through her hair. "Everyone knew who you were," she said defensively.

"And yet you never talked to me," he said, leaning closer. "Except for that night where we didn't actually do any talking."

"Maybe I wasn't interested in what you had to say," she fired back.

"You're lying again."

"Fine," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "I thought you were an fascinating, self-centered, son of a bitch who would in the long run, distract me. And I couldn't afford any distractions."

"But you let me distract you for one night," he said, trying to gather her train of thoughts.

"Because I didn't think it would go any further than that. And I was right."

"You were only half-right," he said. "I told you that I was going to call you—

"I know that now," she said, shrugging her shoulders as she interrupted him. "But I didn't know that then."

"And if I had called you?" he asked.

Cuddy paused; she had thought about what might have happened if their one-night stand hadn't actually been a one-night stand, but the thought of _him_ thinking about it had never crossed her mind.

"I don't know," she said. "We might not be sitting here."

House nodded, and she couldn't be sure, but she could have sworn she saw a look of disappointment cross his face.

"House," she said, her voice soft and comforting. "There's no point in trying to think about what could have been. I'm happy with the way my life has turned out.

"Happy?" he asked.

"I know it's a very foreign concept to you, but just try to embrace it," she said, using his line from earlier. "We should go. I need to go back and get my car before picking up Rachel. Who, by the way, is _never _getting on your motorcycle."

"Give her ten years or so. Like mother like daughter."

Cuddy let out a slight laugh, and then froze, processing what he had just said. House was talking about their relationship years from now. Under the circumstances, she had expected their relationship to blow up in their face at some point.

But so far it hadn't. And maybe, just _maybe_, it didn't have to.

* * *

Amelia sat at the bar, flipping through a book. Joey was in front of her, wiping down the counter. He made his way over to her, and she wordlessly lifted the book up, allowing him to wipe down the spot that the book was previously laying on.

He opened his mouth to say something to her, but she held up one finger, silently telling him to give her a minute.

Joey threw the rag back to its proper place behind the bar, and he leaned against the edge, waiting for her to finish.

He watched as her eyes skimmed the face, and smiled as she scrunched up her nose in concentration. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and the sun caught her face, the light glistening against her diamond studs; a gift from Charlie he presumed, that she had suddenly stopped feeling guilty about wearing.

She had told him that she'd run into Charlie earlier in the week, but she had refrained from giving any full details; Cuddy had gotten the full story of course, but she'd neglected to clue him in on what exactly had happened.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Joey tapped his fingers against the bar, waiting for her to finish. He smiled as he saw a slight smirk appear on her face at his impatience.

She turned the page, and after one last skim, shut the book entirely.

Amelia lifted her head and brought her hand to her hair, playfully throwing it behind her shoulder.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked

"I was just going to see if you were planning to relax any time soon," he said, shrugging his shoulder.

"My schedule is pretty tight. Try again next week."

"Amelia…" he said, his voice trailing.

"Joey," she answered, leaning in closer.

He smiled, a small laugh escaping his lips. "You need to have some fun."

"I have plenty of fun," she said, somewhat defensively.

"Really?" he asked, clearly not convinced. Amelia narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, perturbed by the fact that Joey was standing in front of her with such a _smug _look on his face.

She sat up straight, squaring her shoulders. "Yes, really. Rachel and I had a lovely time at the zoo two days ago."

"Rachel is five," he deadpanned. "Try again."

"What about you?" she asked, deflecting. "You have me, and you have House. Not exactly the greatest people to surround yourself with."

"True," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "But I haven't been wallowing in self pity for the past month."

"I do not _wallow_," she said, drawing out the word.

"When was the last time you actually went out?" he asked

Amelia scoffed, pushing her book to the side. Joey raised his eyebrows, awaiting her response, and she flipped her hair the teensiest bit, stalling as she racked her brain for an answer.

"I come here almost every weekend," she said, a triumphant smile on her face.

Joey shook his head. "This doesn't count. You're comfortable here."

"So you're saying I need to get out of my comfort zone?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Amelia shook her head and paused, not wanting to answer.

Joey sighed and pressed his hands against the edge of the bar, leaning closer.

"Amelia," he began. She lifted her head in an exasperated manner, but her eyes softened as she made note of the serious tone in his voice. "You spent six years of your life with someone because they were comfortable. And look where that's landed you."

She lifted her hands to her head, pressing them against her forehead as she rubbed her temple. Her hair cascaded over her face, and Joey sighed at her frustration. He'd been careful about how he approached this; he knew that this was something she needed to hear, and he didn't want to be hard on her, but he didn't want to be soft either.

She needed someone firm. She needed someone who was going to support her, no matter what.

She needed someone who was going to be brutally honest with her.

"Have I irrevocably screwed myself over?" she asked. Her hands were still covering her face, and she kneaded her forehead underneath her mass of blonde hair. "By saying no to Charlie I mean. We could have been happy, I think."

"You think?" he asked

Amelia sighed, lifting her head up and disentangling her hands. "My parents were so in love when they first got married. Look where that landed them."

"You're not your parents, Amelia."

"I know," she said, nodding her head. "But it would just be so much easier to spend the rest of your life with someone who you didn't actually need, you know? You like them, you may even love them, but you don't need them. Take House, for example. He needs Lisa. I mean he _needs _her. And she needs him. It's taken the two of them twenty years, and they're still not sure what the hell they're doing. It just shouldn't be that hard."

"But it shouldn't be that easy, either. Look, you're not your parents. And you're not Lisa, or House. You're you. And you deserve to be needed by someone. And you deserve someone who needs you. It's that simple."

"Nothing is ever that simple," she muttered.

"It is if you let it," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Amelia smiled at him and let out a slight laugh.

Joey walked to the other side of the bar and held out his hand, a playful look on his face. "Come on," he said, nodding his head to the door.

"Where are we going?" she asked. His hand was still extended, and he motioned for her to take it.

"We're getting you out of your comfort zone," he said nonchalantly.

Amelia gently bit down on her lip before reaching her hand out, lacing her fingers through his.

She left her book on the bar and followed him out the door.

* * *

"You're cheating," said Rachel, folding her arms across her chest in an irritated manner.

House looked up from the Candyland board game that Rachel had practically forced him to play, an appalled look on his face.

"I would never do that," he said, raising his hand to his chest as if she had suddenly insulted him beyond belief.

"You drew the Princess Lolly card but moved your piece to Queen Frostine," she said, tilting her head to the right. "That's cheating."

"I agreed you play this game with you. I didn't say I was going to be nice about it. The world is full of cheaters. I might as well teach you now," he said.

"If you two don't stop I'm going to take the game away from you both," called Cuddy from the kitchen.

House rolled his eyes and sat up a bit. "I'm teaching your daughter a valuable life lesson. You should be thanking me," he said.

"Mommy, he's cheating!" shrieked Rachel. House winced as her high-pitched voice pierced his eardrums, and she sent him a devilish smirk. He narrowed his eyes at her, slightly impressed with her tactic.

Cuddy emerged from the kitchen and peaked her head around the corner of the wall. "That's enough for tonight. Dinner is ready anyway," she said.

Rachel huffed and began to collect the pieces to her game. She folded up the board and neatly placed it in its box, arranging the figurines in some type of color-coded combination that House didn't even _try _to understand.

He held out his cards to her, and she took them, placing them with the other cards. She looked him square in the eye, cocked her hip out to the left, and slightly tilted her head to the right.

"This isn't over yet," she whispered.

"Game on," he fired back.

Rachel didn't respond. She nodded her head and proceeded to skip out of the room. House shook his head as he got up and followed her into the kitchen.

Rachel had taken her seat at the table already, and House walked over to help Cuddy carry things to the table.

Cuddy smirked and handed him the salad, which he took while sending her a glaring look.

"There is no point in trying to cheat with her," she muttered. "She'll catch you every time."

"Speaking from experience are we?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "No," she said. "She has cousins you know."

"Mommy never cheats," said Rachel. "But she doesn't let me win either. Aunt Julia does that sometimes and I _hate _that."

"Your Aunt Julia does a lot of things that I hate," said House. "Like breathing."

"House," warned Cuddy, turning her head towards him. "Let's just eat."

"Mommy I'm not hungry," whined Rachel.

"Yes you are," said Cuddy as she twirled some noodles around her fork.

House turned his head towards Rachel. "You are one whiny kid, you know that?" he teased.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and moved her fork around her plate, attempting to make it look like some of her food had magically disappeared.

"If I eat all of my food can I go play on House's new toy?" asked Rachel, her smile widening.

"Absolutely not," said House, turning his head towards her. "And it's not a toy, it's a motorcycle."

"You're mean," said Rachel, taking a bite of her food just to spite him.

Cuddy lifted her head up from her plate and let her fork fall to the table, the noise interrupting the two of them. She raised her eyebrows at them, sending them both glaring looks.

"Are you two done?" she asked

House and Rachel looked at each other, and then shrugged their shoulders. They nodded at Cuddy and turned their attention back to their food.

"Thank you," she said. "Rachel, you can ride your _own _bike after dinner, okay?" she said.

Rachel nodded excitedly at her and stuffed a giant forkful of noodles into her mouth.

House handed her a napkin, and Cuddy looked over at him, giving him a slight smile.

She didn't even try to conceal the grin that had appeared on her face as she took another bite of her dinner.

* * *

Cuddy sat on the edge of the curb as she watched Rachel ride her bike, albeit one with training wheel attached, around the culdesaq at the end of their street.

The sun was about to go down, and the air was beginning to chill, so she pulled her cardigan closer to her chest.

She saw House limping towards her, and she smiled, standing up to meet him.

"You leaving already?" she asked, noting the time.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head. "Joey called and said he might be late, so I'm going to open the bar up. He and Amelia are off doing something."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes. "Off doing what?" she asked

"No idea," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't ask. Hold this, will you?" he said, handing her his leather jacket.

She took it from him, and turned her head, checking to make sure Rachel was okay before following him over to his bike.

"Is Amelia okay?" asked Cuddy

"No idea," said House he got on the motorcycle. "Like I said, I didn't ask."

Cuddy sighed and handed him his helmet. "You're completely useless to me," she said flatly, taking another step closer to him.

"I beg to differ," he said. She smirked as he wrapped an arm around her waist, and her hand fell to his shoulder as she caught her balance.

She pressed her lips to his, her hand rubbing the side of his cheek as their lips gently crashed together.

Cuddy pulled back from him and back away. "Get out of here before Rachel sees you on this damn bike," she said.

"So bossy today," he said. He smiled at her before slipping on his helmet, and she gave him a slight wave as he sped away.

Cuddy looked down and was about to call out to him as she realized she was still holding his jacket, but he was halfway down the road— there was no way he would hear her.

A gust of wind suddenly ripped through the air, and Cuddy shivered, trying to warm herself up. She looked down at the jacket once more, and then shrugged her shoulders, deciding to slip it on.

She stuffed her arms through the sleeves and wrapped it around her; it practically swallowed her, but she welcomed the warmth that it brought.

Cuddy's eyes darted to a few feet down the street, where Rachel was contently riding her bike around in circles. Cuddy made her way over to her, stuffing her hands in the pockets of the jacket.

She froze as her fingers grazed an all too familiar feeling; there was a bottle of Vicodin in the pocket of his jacket.

* * *

_A/N: Fun fact: My mother used to cheat when we played CandyLand together. I blame her for all of my problems. _

_That's a lie my mother is a wonderful human. _

_Leave a review please!_

_-Alison_


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Happy Friday everyone! I was going to post this later tonight, but I've got fun and exciting college things to do. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It 's kind of emotionally exhausting, but I'm really proud of the way it turned out.

* * *

The sun was shining.

Amelia smiled as the wind whipped through her hair, the sun beating down on her face. She looked over at Joey, who had one hand on the wheel and one on the radio as he turned up the volume to drown out the sound of the other cars on the freeway.

They had left the bar over an hour ago, and had gotten in to his jeep and just started to drive. And even though it was nearing December and the air had chilled to an unbelievable coldness, they had removed the doors and roof to the vehicle; Joey had somehow convinced her that it would be more fun that way.

He was right.

Amelia had plugged her ipod into the adapter, and was randomly selecting songs for them to sing along to. She had everything from The Rolling Stones to Katy Perry, and Frank Sinatra to Blake Shelton.

Joey would sing along to the songs that he knew, and let her take the lead on the ones he didn't, content to listen to the sound of her voice as he drove down the crowded interstate.

He made no attempts to hide the smile that crossed his face, and he _swore _he saw her cheeks redden every time his eyes gazed over to hers.

Of course, her flushed cheeks could have been due to the fact that they were driving 70 miles per hour down the highway in a car with virtually no doors or windows, but he liked to pretend that there was a different reason.

Him mainly. But for fear of jinxing it, he didn't bring it up.

So he kept driving.

They drove for miles and miles, and eventually, it got to a point where neither one of them could feel their faces any more. When it became too unbearable for the both of them, Joey pulled off of the nearest exit.

They'd made it all the way to the mountains of Charlottesville, and Joey pulled the car over to a small clearing on the side of the road. They were completely alone, and the sun was just beginning to set.

He turned the car off and hopped out, leaving the door open as he walked to the back of his car. Amelia turned her head, a confused look on her face as she watched him rummage through the contents of his trunk.

A relieved look came across her face when he emerged with a blanket. He handed it to her, and she unbuckled her seatbelt before wrapping half of it around her.

"Is this what you do with all the girls?" she asked playfully, causing Joey to smirk as he got back into the car. "Lure them to the countryside just in time for the sun to set, hand them a blanket, and then hope they just melt by your generosity?"

"No," he said, shrugging his shoulders and giving her a slight smile. "Usually I just wait for them to hit on me at the bar."

"They do seem to love the tattoos," she said.

"It helps that I'm the one pouring alcohol down their throats," he joked. "Actually, you're the first girl I've ever let inside of my car."

"You're joking," she said accusingly. She turned her head towards him, her mouth slightly open in shock. "Joey, you've had this car for years."

"Like I said, I just wait for them to hit on me at the bar," he said.

"So what happens when you go on date?" She didn't know why she was so curious, but there was something satisfying about the embarrassed look that had swept across Joey's face.

"I usually meet her there," he said.

Amelia stifled a laugh and unwrapped the blanket, spreading it across the middle of the car so it could reach him too.

"That way there are no expectations about how the rest of the evening is going to play out," he finished. "It's always a good idea to have an escape route."

Amelia shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm the tangles that were a direct result of the wind that had whipped through her hair for the past two hours.

She finally gave up and decided a ponytail was her best option.

"That," she began, her ponytail holder clenched between her teeth, "is a terrible way to look at life.

"Really," he asked, his voice skeptical. "You think so?"

Amelia scoffed as she finished tying her hair up. "Absolutely. You expect things to go wrong, and you'll never tell people what you really think because you're so sure they're going to let you down. For someone who had a stable home-life growing up, you are seriously screwed up."

"And you?" he asked, turning the conversation towards her. This earned him a slight glare, and he shrugged, urging her to continue.

"I can't talk about the inner workings of my own brain," she said. "I don't exactly have the most unbiased opinion."

"Fine," said Joey. "I'll do it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do what?" she asked.

"Talk about the inner workings of your brain," he said, stealing her line.

"You sure you want to dive into that mess?" she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"I think I can handle it," he said confidently.

Amelia's lips curved into a slight smile, and she laid her hand out, motioning for him to continue. "Be my guest," she said.

Joey smirked, turning towards her. He eyed her suspiciously, and she matched him glare for glare; she was practically _daring _him to tell her what he really thought.

"You're so focused on what your life should be, that you've forgotten to consider what your life could be."

Amelia didn't respond, and he sighed, afraid that he had said the wrong thing. He watched as her fingers pulled at the frays of the blanket that was draped across her lap. Her head was bowed, and her eyes looked as if they couldn't decide if they wanted to stay focused on the blanket, or look up at him.

She didn't challenge him, and he took that as a sign that he should continue.

"Take your friends for example. You don't even like them. And when you do hang out with them, you spend the entire time texting Lisa about how much you don't actually like them. Which is funny, because she's the one you would rather be hanging out with."

Amelia eyes looked up, and she opened her mouth to protest, but her mind beat her to it; he was right, so she quickly shut it.

"But you force yourself to hang out with them, because that's what's socially acceptable. And I got to tell you Amelia, you're so much happier when you're not trying to force yourself into some type of social norm."

Amelia smiled at him. "Social norm?" she asked, noting the psychological term that he used.

Joey shrugged, an embarrassed look on his face. "I may have read one of those books you gave me," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Well I'm glad they've helped someone," she muttered. "And what about Charlie? I would say that saying no to him was the opposite of trying to fit in to a social norm."

"It was," said Joey, nodding his head. "But look how torn up you are about it. You don't regret saying no because you want to be with him. You regret saying no because you feel like the normal thing for a person to do in that situation is say yes."

"Why do you care so much?"

Joey froze, and Amelia stopped fiddling with the blanket beneath her. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, she didn't think he was going to answer.

But then he did.

"Because," he said softly, "you've never been just a girl in a bar to me."

* * *

It was raining.

She heard the rain beating down against the windows of her home, and with every passing minute, it seemed to fall harder and harder.

Lisa Cuddy took a long, drawn out sip of the tea that she had made over an hour ago. It was cold now, and her taste buds did not welcome the icy temperature that the drink brought to her lips.

But she didn't care.

She had made it in hopes of calming herself down, but unsurprisingly enough, her attempt was unsuccessful. She stared at the bottle of vicodin that she had placed in the middle of the table, closing her eyes and bowing her head.

She had yet to open it.

Judging by its weight, she guessed that it was half full. But she couldn't be sure.

She felt like she couldn't be sure about anything.

He had told her that he was clean—and she had believed him, perhaps foolishly so.

Cuddy lifted the mug to her lips once more, desperate for a distraction.

She practically choked on the unpleasantness of the tea. She got up from the table and walked over to the sink, where she poured out the remaining contents.

She began to incessantly scrub the mug with a sponge, attempting to clean every nook and craning. She turned on the hot water, letting it run over her hands as she worked on the mug.

Cuddy let out an audible sigh as she glanced at the clock; it was well past one in the morning, meaning House would be home soon.

When she found the bottle in the pocket of his jacket, she could have sworn she felt her heart stop. Everything from then on had been a blur.

She had tried to act as normal as possible around Rachel, who understandably so, was completely oblivious to her mother's current emotional state.

They'd played outside until it was time for her to start getting ready for bed, she'd had her bath, and then Cuddy had read her what felt like a thousand stories. In reality, it had only been two.

But she couldn't stop thinking about _him. _

It wasn't about the drugs.

I had _never _been about the drugs.

It was what the drugs did to him; it was the lying; it was his blatant mistrust in her.

He had told her he wasn't on drugs—he had _insisted _he was clean, and yet, there was a half empty bottle of vicodin on the table.

Her worst fear was that she was never going to be enough for him. That he would choose the drugs, or the next big puzzle, or himself, over her every single time.

So far he had proven her right.

The hot water was still running over her now shaking hands, but she didn't bother to turn it off.

Cuddy watched as the rain violently beat against the window, and she hated herself for it, but she suddenly began to worry about him; riding a motorcycle was dangerous enough, but riding it in the rain was even worse—especially if he was high.

She let out an ironic laugh as she realized what was going through her head. Here she was, staring out the window at one in the morning, worrying about a man, who, based on his track record, never seemed to worry about her.

And she hated him for it.

She hated that he made her feel so small one minute, and then the next minute, it was as if she was the only person in the world who mattered. He made her deliriously happy and violently ill at the same time, and at first it's exciting and unpredictable, but after a while, the novelty begins to wear off. And she's left wondering if all the pain is worth it.

To most people, it wouldn't be. But to her, it was.

She wished it wasn't.

Her entire life had been full of second best. Second best to Julia, second best in Med School, a woman in a man's world—no matter how good she was at her job, someone _always _seemed to play the woman card.

She refused to settle for second best in her personal life.

Her eyes glanced back over to the clock; thirty minutes had gone by, and her breath hitched as she heard the door creak open.

Pulled form her trance, Cuddy was suddenly aware of just how hot the water was. She let out a small yelp and dropped the mug into the sink, causing it to shatter to pieces.

"Shit," she muttered, bowing her head down towards the sink.

She heard his footsteps approaching her, and she knew she'd been caught. He on the other hand, had no idea.

"You okay?" he asked. There was concern in his voice, and she wanted to cry out at the irony of it all.

"I'm fine," she said. Her head was still bowed, and she made futile attempts to hold in choked back sobs.

"You don't look fine," he said as he limped closer to her. "Give me your hand," he ordered.

She shook her head, but didn't bother to move the hair that had fallen in front of her face out of the way. It was shielding the hurt look in her eyes, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much this was affecting her.

Not that he had any idea what was going on.

"I'm fine," she repeated. She began to pick up the pieces of the shattered mug, collecting them in her hand and trying not to focus on the symbolism of it all.

"Cuddy," said House firmly. He placed his hand on her elbow, forcing her to stop and turn towards him. "What is going on?"

She sighed and placed the broken pieces on the counter next to him. He released his grip on her, and she backed away from him and towards the kitchen table.

Cuddy took a deep breath and picked up the bottle of pills that she had left on the table.

"Why don't you tell me?" she said, her voice tired and afraid.

The color drained from his face, and for the briefest of moments, she felt sorry for him. But she quickly pushed those thoughts out of her mind.

"Where did you get those?" he asked. His voice was flat, and he took a deep breath as the reality of the situation began to set in.

She'd found his stash.

"In the pocket of your jacket," she said, taking a seat at the table. She closed her eyes as he walked over towards her and took the seat directly across from where she was sitting. "Which, by the way, is a terrible place to hide them."

"I wasn't trying to hide them," he said, slightly pleading with her.

"Really?" she asked. Her voice was growing firmer, and House swallowed hard; she was pissed. And she had every right to be.

She lifted a hand to her hair, and for the first time that night, he noticed her tear stained cheeks and the redness in her eyes; she had been crying.

"You told me you hadn't relapsed." Her eyes met his, and there was a look in her eyes that was begging him to prove her wrong.

"I haven't," he said. He heard her scoff, and he shook his head. "It's hard to explain," he muttered.

"Well maybe you should try," she said, irritated. She wasn't going to let him rationalize his way out of this one. "You brought drugs into my home, House. You don't get to choose whether or not you explain this."

"Don't make this about something that it's not," he said. "You're pissed because you think I lied to you, not because there were drugs in your house."

"You _did_ lie to me. I have a five year old daughter, did you even think about what would happen if she had found them instead of me?"

"That's why I keep them in the pocket of _my _jacket. The bottle is child proof, she wouldn't have been able to get into them anyway," he said mockingly. He regretted it the minute it came out of his mouth and he saw the look on her face.

"Unbelievable," she muttered. "This whole time I've been trying to convince myself that things can actually be different between us, but every time I think we're getting somewhere you pull crap like this."

"You don't know the whole story," he said.

She raised an eyebrow and extended her arm, motioning for him to continue. "So enlighten me," she ordered.

House looked up, his eyes meeting hers. He sighed as her face softened; she just wanted an explanation. He knew she was angry, but she looked like she was about to breakdown at any moment.

And she had no idea how much that was killing him.

He knew he should tell her the truth—that he wasn't back on drugs, and he didn't _want _to be back on drugs. That it was all just a mind game; a challenge; a puzzle within his own mind.

"You wouldn't understand," he said. He knew he was settling for an answer, and that she wouldn't accept it.

He was right.

"You don't _want _me to understand," she pleaded. "You close yourself off from people because you've convinced yourself that you are in inexplicable. You don't think anyone is smart enough to figure you out, so you don't even give them a chance."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, turning towards her. The redness in her eyes was still there, and her voice broke with every word.

"I just want you to give me a chance," she said. "If you're back on drugs…"

"I'm not back on drugs," he said, interrupting her. He saw her shake her head in disbelief, and he sighed. "But you don't believe that," he said.

"Should I?" she asked, her eyes darting to the bottle on the table.

"I told you the truth. It's not my problem that you can't accept it for what it is."

Cuddy scoffed. "Not your problem," she restated in disbelief, lifting a hand to rub her temple. "Fine. It's late, I'm going to sleep."

She got up from the table and began to walk away.

"So that's it? That's all you have to say?" he asked softly

"Yeah, that's all I have to say. You clearly aren't interested in explaining yourself, and I'm not interested in any half assed excuses. You're either willing to open up to me, or you're not."

"Don't you think you're blowing this out of proportion?" he asked. He got up from the chair and walked towards her, causing her to pause in the middle of the hallway.

She folded her arms across her chest, and looked him square in the eyes. "Don't you think you're downplaying this? You're acting as if _I'm _the one who is being irrational here. You won't even tell me what's going on, which only leads me to believe that you were lying about the drugs, and that… that is an entirely different conversation."

"Did you ever think that maybe this has nothing to do with you? Are you so self-centered that you can't imagine me having an issue that's just about me? You don't factor into this, therefore you don't need to know."

"I don't factor into this?" she hissed. Cuddy stood up straight and tightened her arms across her chest, doing her best not to let the tears that had begun to form escape from her eyes. "Well I'm glad I know where I stand," she said.

She turned towards the direction of her bedroom, and House dropped his shoulders before calling out her name.

"Cuddy," he said as he limped towards her. "I didn't mean…"

But it was too late.

He bowed his head as he heard her shut the door.

* * *

"Why did you get this one?" asked Amelia as she grabbed Joey's arm and pointed to a tattoo right below his shoulder.

Eventually, the mountain air had gotten too cold for them both, so they had driven back to the city. The drive back had been just like the drive up; fun, relaxing, freeing even.

Amelia had curled up under the blanket on the way back, and they had cranked the heat up as high as it would go, but the whipping wind was still like a slap to the face as they drove.

By the time they had gotten back to the city, the crowd at the bar was starting to wind down, so they'd just decided to hang out at Amelia's studio apartment for a bit.

And somehow, they'd ended up on the couch, a blanket casually draped over them, with two cups of coffee sitting on the table in front of them.

Joey smiled sheepishly at her as his eyes darted over to the meaningless tattoo she was referring to.

"That," he began, his eyes shifting towards her, "was the product of too much alcohol. I don't even know what the hell it's supposed to be."

Amelia laughed, and he smiled as she tossed her thick blonde hair over her shoulder.

"You're joking," she said, releasing her hand from his shoulder and taking her warm cup of coffee into her hands.

"I really wish I were," he said. Amelia smiled as she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip, sighing contently as the warm liquid trickled down her throat.

"What about this one?" she asked, setting the mug down and taking his wrist into her hand.

There were three numbers tattooed in black ink on the inside of his wrist, and she knew that this could possibly be a mistake, but she didn't stop herself when she realized her fingers had begun to trace over the numbers.

Joey paused before answering, and Amelia looked up, their eyes locking.

"Those are the months that me and my two sisters were born in," he said. Joey slowly moved his hand towards hers, and his fingers lightly grazed over hers. "I'm the three, my younger sister Carrie is the seven, and Olivia, the youngest, is number twelve."

"And you all have them?" asked Amelia, her eyes softening.

"Nah," he said shaking his head. "But you know the roman numeral one on the back of my shoulder?"

Amelia nodded her head, and smiled as she realized Joey's hand was still covering hers. She didn't bother to move it.

"Well Carrie and Olivia have one of those too, except Carrie has a two and Olivia has a three."

"It's actually disgusting how much you love each other," said Amelia, a hint of laughter in her voice. Joey shrugged and smiled sheepishly, suddenly a bit embarrassed. "It's good that you guys are close. I always wanted a sibling growing up."

"Growing up in a house with two teenage girls isn't all it's cracked up to be," he answered, trying to comfort her. "But I can't imagine my life without the two of them."

"Tell that to my parents," she muttered. Joey squeezed her hand, and she sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry, I don't want to talk about them."

"You sure?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Yes," she said, firmly—although he didn't know if she was trying to convince him, or herself. "It's been a over a month since I've spoken to either one of them. Clearly they have other things on their minds."

"Okay," he said, not wanting to push her. "But for the record, your parents are crazy not to want you in their life."

Amelia lifted her eyes up to meet his, and she slowly felt her hand inch up towards his arm. She didn't know what was happening, let alone if she should stop it; it was as if she had lost all control of her movements.

She felt his hand move to her waist and pull her closer to him, and before she knew it, her lips were on his. It was slow and gentle at first, and their lips tentatively meshed together.

But then her hand moved to the back of his neck, and he leaned closer into her as their lips parted slightly, and suddenly the room was spinning.

Their lips crashed together, and he slipped his tongue inside of her mouth, causing her to moan into him. Her fingers tugged at the loose hairs at the nape of his neck, and she fell back against the couch, shifting underneath him.

Then she heard her phone start to ring.

Joey reluctantly pulled away and Amelia smiled apologetically at him. She sighed as she sat up and reached for her phone on the table in front of her.

"It's Lisa," she said softly, checking the name on the phone.

She was about to set it back on the table when Joey stopped her. "You should answer it," he said. She raised her eyebrows at him and he sighed as he looked at the clock. "It's almost two in the morning, it could be an emergency."

"Joey…"

"It's fine," he said, smiling at her. "It's getting late anyway. I'll call you tomorrow."

She nodded at him, and watched as he walked out the door of her apartment.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she picked up the phone.

"This better be important."

* * *

House hadn't moved in over an hour. He just sat there, staring at the half empty bottle of pills.

And thinking—he'd done a lot of thinking.

He knew Cuddy wasn't asleep. He'd heard her shut the door earlier, but he didn't dare to go in. Not yet, at least.

But he could see the dim light from the lamp peeping through the bottom of the door, and he thought he heard her muffled voice about half an hour after she had left him alone at the table. He assumed she was on the phone talking to Amelia, but he couldn't be sure.

The way this night was going, she was on the phone with Julia spilling all of their secrets.

He cursed himself for thinking that; he knew Cuddy would never do that—and Julia was hardly the person she would call to comfort her over a fight she'd had with him, of all people.

He guessed it was a fight. She was pissed, that much he knew. But she seemed sadder than anything else.

It was almost as if she was broken. And every time he opened his mouth to try and fix it, a little piece of her broke even more.

And he couldn't bear to see that.

He looked at the bottle of pills and hastily reached for it, clutching it between his hands.

House swung his leg to the side and promptly stood up. He took hurried steps towards her bedroom door, and paused in front of it as he reached it.

He had one hand on the doorknob, and he took a deep breath as he opened it.

Cuddy was sitting on her bed with a nail file in her hand. She was filing away at her nails rather angrily, and for a moment, House had regretted coming in.

But then she lifted her head and he saw her tear stained face, and there was suddenly nowhere else he would rather be.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he said, taking small steps towards her.

"I'm not interested," she said, turning her attention back to her nails.

"An hour ago you were practically begging me for an explanation. And now you've what, decided you don't care about what I have to say?"

"No," she said, throwing the nail file down next to her, "I'm just not interested in hearing whatever excuse you've been putting together for the last hour."

"So apologies mean nothing to you now. Good to know," he said.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "How many times do we have to go over this? Whether you took the drugs or not is not the issue here. You don't trust me House. An apology won't fix that. No matter how much either of us wishes it would."

House sighed, and began to limp towards her. "Well then tell me what to do," he pleaded. "You want the whole story? Fine, I'll tell you. But I can tell you right now you're not going to like what I have to say."

He reached over her and slammed the bottle of vicodin on the bedside table. She glared at him, and then the bottle.

"That's what I'm talking about," muttered Cuddy. "You don't tell me things about your life because you assume that I can't handle the pain of it all, that I won't understand. But I deal with a lot of crap, House. Especially from you."

"Why do you think I don't tell always tell you things? I've put you through enough as it is, this isn't something you need to concern yourself with."

Cuddy shook her head. "You still don't get it, do you? House, we can't have individual issues. You have to be open with me about things, and you're not willing to do that. You'd rather bottle it all inside instead of just talking to me."

"Because I can handle it on my own," he said.

"Clearly you can't," she said, pointing to the bottle of pills on the nightstand.

House was silent for a few moments and he watched as Cuddy took a deep breath and sunk her head further into the pillow that was behind her.

"I keep the pills with me because it makes me feel like I have some control left in my life," he began. Cuddy lifted her eyes up, and against his better judgment, House continued. "Being able to say no…makes me feel better."

Cuddy sighed. "So this is about more than just the vicodin," she said, catching up to his train of thought.

House nodded. "Look, up until a few months ago, my life had gone to complete shit. I lost my best friend, and gave up the only thing I was good at so I could…you know. And then you showed up, and it suddenly didn't suck as much."

"So why even keep the pills? Why even tempt yourself? What happens when one day you can't say no?"

"I don't know," he said softly.

"Well until you figure it out, I think you should go."

"Cuddy," he said, moving closer towards her.

He felt his heart sink when she backed away from him.

"I can't…I just can't be around you right now. I believe you when you say you didn't take the drugs, but I just need some time to process everything."

"You need time," he repeated.

Cuddy nodded, and she took a deep breath as she felt tears begin to form in her eyes.

House paused, and tentatively placed his hand on her leg, and gently squeezed her knee before getting up and heading towards the door.

Cuddy lifted a hand to her mouth and tired to contain the choked back sobs that were threatening to come out of her mouth.

House took a deep breath and tried to focus on walking.

The only thing keeping him going was the fact that she didn't pull away when he placed his hand on her knee.

* * *

_I'm sorry you guys. It will get better, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, I cried a bit when writing this? Leave a review please!  
__-Alison_


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Happy Thursday everyone! Thank you for all the kind words on the last chapter. I had a really hard time writing this one, and I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied with the way it turned out. I hope you enjoy the way I've handled the current issue at hand; like I said, it was a bit of a struggle to crank out. _

_Just a heads up: I'm beginning to wind down this story. I've had so much fun writing it, but I think it's about time for it to end. I have one big plot left to explore, but after that, I think I'm going to cut it off. That being said, I've toyed with the idea of writing a sequel, so if that's something you think you would be interested in, perhaps mention it in a review :p _

_I am in the process of planning a different type of story though, so I won't disappear completely! Anyway, enough about that._

* * *

A small smile crept across her face as she heard the sound of three light taps on her door.

Amelia ran a hand through her fresh-from-the-shower hair, and paused, remembering that her towel was still wrapped around her damp body. She glanced at the clock; Joey had left about half an hour ago, so in all likelihood, he was the one knocking on her door at practically three in the morning.

She took a deep breath and walked the ten short steps that it took to get to her front door, and opened it.

She groaned as she was met with a middle-aged cripple instead of the young, tattooed twenty-seven year old that she was expecting.

"You're at my front door," she said. House's eyes gave her the once over, and she sighed as she tugged at her towel in attempts to tighten it.

"And you're in a towel. Now that we've stated the obvious, can I come in?"

"It's three in the morning," she stated.

House rolled his eyes and walked towards her. "Again, with the obvious," he said.

He pushed past her and she rolled her eyes as she opened the door wider for him. "Please, come on in," she muttered.

House nodded at her and shuffled into her studio apartment. His eyes wandered back and forth as he observed her space.

Her bed was pushed against the wall in the back left corner, the kitchen was to the right of the entryway, there appeared to be a bathroom down the hall from her bedroom, and there was a small living area in the middle, with a sofa and two chairs, and a flat screen mounted to the wall.

The walls of the apartment were mostly brick, and House assumed it was an old building.

"So do you think walls are just fundamentally wrong, or is it more of a deep rooted issue that you can't talk about?" he asked mockingly.

"I like for things to be open," she answered curtly. "I'm going to change…just sit over there until I get back," she said, pointing at the sofa where her and Joey had been sitting just short of an hour ago.

House nodded and made his way over to the couch. He waited until she had disappeared into the back part of the room, where she had some type of partition set up between her bed and bathroom.

He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it on the couch next to him. His eyes darted over to the small coffee table, where he noticed two cups of half abandoned coffee.

House picked one up and brought it to his lips; the liquid was lukewarm, which meant whoever the cup had belonged to hadn't been gone for long.

He smirked as he saw one of Joey's sweatshirts lying haphazardly on the other side of the floor.

Amelia waltzed back into the room wearing sweat pants and on oversized Georgetown sweatshirt, her damp hair thrown into a messy bun.

"Was I interrupting anything?" asked House, his eyes glancing over to the cups of coffee on the table.

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him. "Not unless you count me trying to go to sleep," she answered.

"I don't," said House. "That's Joey's sweatshirt over there."

"I see we're back to stating the obvious," she answered. House opened his mouth to continue, and she could practically _taste _the mocking that was forming in his voice, so she cut him off. "You knew we were together earlier, House. I don't know why you're so surprised."

"I'm not surprised. I don't care what you do, or don't do for that matter."

"Then what are you doing here?" she asked, exasperated.

House paused, and his head bowed just the slightest bit. Amelia eyed him suspiciously and sat down on the couch next to him, noting the worried look on his face.

"Cuddy found the vicodin," he muttered. He lifted a hand to his head and ran it through his hair, sighing in discontent.

Amelia sighed and leaned back into the couch. "I told you to get rid of it."

"I know," he answered.

"She kick you out?"

House shrugged. "I don't know," he answered. "Sort of. I get the feeling I'm not exactly welcome right now."

"Yeah. Drugs and five year olds don't exactly mix."

House rolled his eyes. "There was no way Rachel could have found them," he said defensively. "The only reason Cuddy found them in the first place was because I accidentally left my jacket with her."

Amelia sighed and narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't really think that makes it okay, do you?"

"I think she holds ridiculous standards for people and then resents them when they don't meet them—even though she never expected them to succeed in the first place."

Amelia scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. "So you think failure is okay because it's what she expected all along?"

"Who said anything about failure? I didn't even take the pills," he muttered.

"It's not about taking the pills. You keeping them with you means you're still dependent on them. Which means you don't need her."

House shook his head. "That's completely irrational," he exclaimed.

"Is it? Look, there is a reason you came to my house instead of checking into some sleazy motel, or crashing at the bar."

"You have a bigger tv than Joey," he snapped.

"No I don't. House, you came here for my advice. So do me a favor, and just shut up and listen to me."

House let out a slight groan, and Amelia raised her eyebrows at him. He sat up slightly and turned his head towards her. His lack of opposition suggested he wanted her to continue.

Amelia took that as a good sign.

"You have two choices," she began "You can either admit you were wrong, explain to Lisa what is going on inside your head, or you can do nothing."

"She doesn't want to hear what I have to say," he said.

"Maybe not," she shrugged. "And even if you do manage to explain why you've been lying to her this whole time, there's a chance you could still lose her. But if you do nothing at all, you will lose her no matter what. So do something. Stop being an idiot and stop making excuses for yourself."

"It's been well established that I'm an idiot when it comes to Cuddy," he snapped.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're making excuses again. Do you even _want _your relationship to work out? Or are you trying to sabotage it before you get hurt?"

"Of course I want it to work," he said.

Her eyes shifted towards him. They seemed tired, afraid even. But she had never seen so much emotion in them. She knew he meant it.

She sighed. "Does Lisa know you're here?"

House shook his head.

Amelia nodded in response. "She's probably worried," she murmured to herself. She looked back up at House, who was rubbing the side of his temple. "There isn't anything you can do tonight. But tomorrow morning you are going to pick up the phone, and you're going to call her. Got it?"

House lifted his head and turned towards her. "Why do you care?" he asked

Amelia shrugged. "Same reason you care that Joey was over here earlier."

"I don't care," he quipped.

"Liar," she answered.

"I think you're confusing caring with curiosity," he said.

"You noticed that there were two cups on the table. You noticed that his sweatshirt was lying on the floor. You didn't notice that I had day-old Chinese food sitting on the kitchen counter. Now either you're not as observant as you thought, or your subconscious is more revealing than you let on."

Amelia shot him a smug smile and got up from the couch. She walked over to her bed and grabbed one of the thousands of blankets that were piled up in a heap on her bed—she made sure not to give him the one her and Joey had been sharing earlier. She was saving that one for herself.

She walked it back over to him and casually tossed it in his direction.

"Just tell her how you feel," she said.

House paused and grabbed the blanket that she had thrown him. He stretched his leg out on the couch and sighed—it had started to hurt the minute he left Cuddy's house.

He sighed before answering. "She knows how I feel," he relented.

"Knowing something isn't the same as hearing it. You and I both know that."

* * *

The next morning, or rather, a few short hours later, House woke to the sound of the water running in the bathroom down the hall, and the sun shining through the flimsy curtains on the window.

He groaned as the sunlight seemed to intensify within seconds, and he rubbed his leg before sitting all the way up. He yawned and reached for his cell phone that was sitting on the coffee table.

House sighed as he realized Cuddy had yet to call him.

He chucked the phone on the couch next to him and got up, slightly rubbing his leg as he walked over to the kitchen.

House opened the door to Amelia's fridge and smirked; only Cuddy could possibly manage to find someone more neurotic than herself to watch her kid. Amelia's fridge was not only organized by category, but by frequency of use as well.

He picked up the carton of orange juice and peered his head around the corner; the water was still running in the bathroom, so he shrugged and took a sip directly from the carton.

House grimaced as he felt the pulp run down his throat. Who the hell drank pulp, anyway? He shoved the carton back into the fridge, not caring that it was most likely out of place.

He walked back over to the couch and picked up his cell phone once again. He knew he should call Cuddy. If nothing else, to tell her that he was okay. Even though she was the one who told him to go, he knew she would be worried.

Her perverse sense of guilt had a tendency to screw her over.

He had one hand in position to dial her number, and the other was scratching at his head.

But the sound of knocking on Amelia's door got him off the hook—at least, that's what he thought at the time.

House slid his phone into his pocket and got up to answer the door. Amelia was still in the shower, but he assumed that it would be Joey.

He was wrong.

House opened the door to find Cuddy standing there, with Rachel in tow. Rachel was gripping Cuddy's hand with a semi-confused look on her face.

But Cuddy didn't look surprised, which meant she must have known he was here.

House sighed. "She tell you I was here?" he asked

Cuddy shook her head. "No," she answered softly. "Process of elimination. You weren't at Joey's so I just assumed…Amelia is taking Rachel to the zoo, anyway so I just thought—

Cuddy was cut off by Rachel, who had decided to let go of her hand and walked into the apartment. She tugged on the bottom of House's shirt and swayed back and forth as she asked, "Are you and Mommy going to come to the zoo with us?"

Cuddy sighed. "I already told you sweetie, House and I can't go to the zoo today."

Rachel let out a dramatic sigh, accompanied by a huff, causing a small smirk to form on House's face. Cuddy shot him a look of 'don't you dare encourage her', and House cleared his throat.

"Is it because you're fighting?" she asked, tugging at the strands of her own hair. "And that's why you made House sleep at 'Melia's house instead of ours?"

Cuddy's eyes widened and she brought a hand to her head, running it through her hair. House noticed the defeated look on her face, so he quickly stepped in.

"Did anyone ever tell you you ask too many questions?" he patronized.

"No," answered Rachel promptly. "My teacher said it's good to ask questions. It means you're smart."

"It can also mean you're an idiot," said House in a sweet voice that he hoped would mask the insult.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. "Well you're the one who made Mommy mad. That was dumb of you. Come color with me!" she said, quickly over their little altercation and in desperate need of a playmate.

Rachel trotted off to the kitchen and sat down at the table. She pulled out the chair for House, who had yet to follow her. She laid her coloring book on the table and pulled out her crayons, meticulously placing them on the table in an organized fashion.

House looked expectedly at Cuddy, who seemed to be frozen in her spot by the door.

"Go," she said softly. "I don't want to do this with her here, anyway."

"Coloring isn't exactly what I want to be doing right now," he said, taking tentative steps towards her. "Or ever, for that matter," he added in a joking manner.

They heard the sound of Amelia's shower turning off, and they both paused, knowing they didn't have much time left until Amelia emerged. Cuddy cleared her throat and folded her arms over her chest.

She hated that things were so awkward between them. She knew she shouldn't have told him to go last night—she had regretted it the minute she tried to go to sleep.

But she was confused, and angry, and sad, and all kinds of emotions that she didn't even want to _begin _to try and understand.

And he was the reason for them all.

"House, please just…"

House didn't give her time to finish her sentence. He knew she was struggling with how to deal with it all. Up until now, things had been progressing easily between the two of them. And it felt different than it had the first time.

But now they were both realizing that even though the situation was different, they were still the same people on the inside.

He placed a hand on her elbow and gently squeezed it. She shot him an appreciative smile and watched as he limped over to where Rachel was sitting and took a seat next to her.

She saw Rachel whisper something to him, and watched as he rolled his eyes and replaced the crayon she was holding between her two fingers with one that had been abandoned on the table in front of her.

Cuddy assumed that House felt that she was using the wrong color, and that the situation should be remedied at once. Because really, what would happen to the world if an elephant was green instead of grey? She supposed she should be upset over House hijacking her daughter's picture, but she couldn't help but let a small smile scape from her lips.

In his own twisted way, House was helping her.

And in that instant she wished she could forgive him for every thing he had done.

But she couldn't.

_She just couldn't._

* * *

Cuddy had decided that the best course of action for the moment would be to avoid the issue completely.

House was starting to rub off on her.

After checking to make sure that Rachel was content, she headed towards the back of Amelia's apartment and into her room. She had seen House stir when she got up, and she felt his eyes on her as she made her way to the back, but she didn't dare to turn around.

Cuddy found Amelia zipping up her riding boots over her dark denim jeans, her hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned down.

Amelia looked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Hi," she said, somewhat confused. "I didn't know you were here."

"I thought I'd save you the trip of picking up Rachel," she said. Amelia eyed her suspiciously and Cuddy sighed as she walked further into the room. "And I knew House was here."

Amelia gave her a soft smile. "I'm glad he called you. I told him to call you. Is it weird that he slept on my couch? I hope it's not weird. I mean, he came to me for help, so that has to mean something, right?"

Cuddy shook her head before answering. "House didn't call me. I just kind of figured out that he was here. And don't worry about it being…weird. I'm glad you guys talked."

Amelia nodded her head as she finished zipping up her boots and stood straight up. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the right. "Why are you in my room instead of out there talking to him?"

"I don't know," said Cuddy. She bowed her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her hair. "He opened the door and I suddenly forgot everything I had planned to say to him. I'm currently using my five-year old daughter as a buffer."

"You're avoiding," said Amelia pointedly.

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders and straightened her back. "I feel like I've screwed this up. Maybe I'm just overreacting."

Amelia walked over closer to her and placed her hand on her arm. "Luckily for you, he feels like he did the exact same thing."

"He said that?" she asked

"More or less," answered Amelia.

A small smile began to form on Cuddy's lips; it was one thing for House to admit to her that he had screwed up. It was completely different for him to admit it to someone else.

Especially since the person he always went to about her was no longer an option.

"Just talk to him Lisa. Joey is meeting us at the zoo in half an hour, so Rachel and I need to get going anyways."

Cuddy raised her eyebrows and gave her a knowing look. "Joey is going to the zoo with you?" she asked

"He really likes the elephants," said Amelia mockingly.

Amelia began to walk out of the room, giving Cuddy no choice but to follow her. Cuddy lagged slightly behind Amelia, who had made her way into the kitchen.

Amelia went into the fridge and pulled out a half-empty Starbucks cup and placed it in the microwave.

House gave her a strange look. "You know I bet if you didn't pay five dollars for a standard cup of coffee, you could afford to buy yourself a fresh one every morning."

"I like reheated coffee, Gregory. Besides, this isn't coffee. This is a soy chai tea latte. Completely different. Lisa, do you want anything?"

Cuddy shook her head no, and Rachel looked up from the table excitedly.

"Can we _please _go to the zoo now? I don't want Fred to be asleep when we get there."

Amelia took a sip from her coffee and smiled as the liquid tickled her taste buds. "Ready when you are, kid."

Rachel hopped down from the chair she was sitting in and grabbed her picture from the table. House held out his fist, which Rachel excitedly bumped—after all, fist bumps were much cooler than high fives.

Cuddy smiled at the interaction from a few feet away. Rachel skipped over to where Cuddy was standing and handed her the picture. "Me and House colored this for you, Mommy. I did all of the coloring, but that's okay. He told me what colors to use."

Cuddy took the picture in her hands and smiled down at Rachel. "It's beautiful, thank you," she said. She took a look at the picture, and thought her heart was going to leap out of her chest.

It was from one of Rachel's princess coloring books, and there was a King and Queen watching a Princess run around in the grass.

Rachel had even drawn a cane next to the King.

"See Mommy?" she said, pointing to the picture. "It's just like the dream I told you about."

"I remember," said Cuddy, as she tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to escape. "Have fun at the zoo, okay?"

Rachel nodded and wrapped her tiny arms around Cuddy's waist, and Cuddy stroked her hair before pressing a kiss to her head. Rachel pulled away and skipped over to the door, waiting patiently for Amelia.

Amelia walked past Cuddy and gave her a reassuring smile and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before meeting Rachel at the door.

Cuddy watched as Amelia helped Rachel put her coat back on, and gave them a small wave as the two walked out the door.

When she heard the door shut, her eyes gazed over to House, who had breathed a sigh of relief. Cuddy closed her eyes and lifted a hand to her head, running it through her hair for a brief moment.

Cuddy walked over to the kitchen table and sat down in the chair across from house.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," he answered. "Sleep okay?"

Cuddy let out a slight smile. "No. You?"

House shook his head. "Your friend snores," he said.

"Why was the bottle half empty?" she asked. She'd had enough of the awkwardness. There was no point in avoiding the issue any longer.

"I see we're diving right into this," said House.

"Just answer the question," she said. "And a real answer, not a clever response that you think will get you off the hook."

"I'm not trying to get off the hook," he said defensively. "I tried to explain this to you last night but you weren't exactly in the mood to listen."

"Well I'm listening now," she said, frustrated.

"They're not mine," said House quietly. Cuddy scoffed and brought her hands to her head in a frustrated manner. "I mean yes, they're mine, but I wasn't holding on to them for me."

Cuddy removed her hands from the side of her head and looked up, her eyes meeting his. It was all starting to click.

"I was saving them for Wilson. He…he died before he could use all of them. He told me to hang on them in case I needed them. I went on a bender for a few days after he died, and when I woke up sober a week later, the pain wasn't gone. The pills didn't work."

"The pills can't keep you from feeling pain, House. After all this time you're still not willing to open yourself up to people because you're afraid to feel anything at all."

"What do you think I've been doing with you for the past six months? I've been more open and honest with you than ever before. And you're still finding ways to accuse me of sabotaging this relationship."

"I'm not the one who's been hiding a bottle of vicodin in my jacket pocket for months," fired back Cuddy. She wasn't going to let him turn this around on her.

"Which I explained to you," he said.

"That's the point, House. Things like that shouldn't need an explanation."

House sighed. Cuddy was the queen of things like this—nothing was ever good enough, because she was a perfectionist. And perfectionists shouldn't have to beg their boyfriend to have a meaningful conversation with her.

That goes without saying.

She expected for things to go exactly the way _she _intended, and if you didn't live up to those expectations, then you were an idiot.

But that's how you knew you'd managed to become an important part of her life. Cuddy didn't waste her precious time on idiots—and if she set an expectation for you, that meant she thought you were capable of proving yourself.

It was your own damn fault if you failed.

"I didn't want the pills to numb the pain," he began softly. He looked up at her pleading eyes, and against his better judgment, continued. "I wanted to die. It almost worked, too."

Cuddy gasped and lifted her hand to her mouth, sucking in an astonished breath. She reached her hand out across the table, letting House know that she was there—every part of her was there.

A gesture of good faith.

"I'd just lost Wilson, I knew I couldn't practice medicine…I thought I'd lost you for good. The pills were all I had left." His hand found it's way to the table, and Cuddy quickly covered it with hers.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes never leaving him. "I didn't think…I never thought…"

She couldn't even say the words—it was that unimaginable to her.

"I was in bad shape. But the last thing Wilson ever said to me was 'give it a week'. I spent days trying to figure out what he meant. Then a week later, you showed up in that bar."

A slight smile escaped her lips. "He knew you couldn't resist the puzzle," said Cuddy.

"You…you saved my life. Several times. And I'm sorry that I've never told you that."

Cuddy squeezed his hand beneath hers, and smiled as he laced his fingers through his. She looked him dead in the eye, a stern look on her face. House eyed her quizzically; he'd thought that she would be happy with what he said— with how much she meant to him.

"I'm not going to be your substitute for Vicodin, House. I want to be a part of your life, not the thing that keeps you from overdosing on a bottle of pills in the middle of the night."

"So you want me to love you, but not so much that it kills me?" he asked, mocking her reasoning.

"You not dying would be a plus, yes," she answered. "I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain about the pills, but you have to understand that I was experiencing some pretty traumatic deja-vu earlier."

"I know," he said, trying to contribute to the conversation while at the same time letting her continue.

"And I'm happy that I make your life suck less. For the record, you make my life suck less too. But we've both got to stop putting so much pressure on our relationship. I know you've been through a lot, especially in the last year, and you feel like you can't talk to people. But you can talk to me, House," she gave him a slight smile and squeezed his hand gently. "It's what I'm here for."

House nodded and turned his head towards her. "I really make your life suck less?" he asked. Cuddy laughed, even though she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

She gave him a smile and a nod, and then got up from her chair. She made her way over to House and sat down on his good leg—luckily it was the one closest to her. House's hand wrapped around her waist, and she looped her arm around his neck.

"It kills me to know that you almost didn't make it," she whispered. Her fingers grazed across his cheek and gradually moved to the hair behind his ear.

He draped his hand across her thigh, running it up and down her leg with a sly smile on his face.

"That was a really unfortunate way to phrase that," he said.

Cuddy shook her head and smiled down at him. "Shut up, House," she murmured.

House smirked up at her before pressing his lips to hers.

* * *

"Joey?" asked Rachel as she stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a better look at the lion exhibit. She didn't wait for him to respond, or look him in the eye even. "Do you like Amelia in the same way House likes Mommy?"

Amelia stifled a laugh and Joey bowed his head before scooting closer to Rachel. He swooped her up, causing her to giggle as he placed her on his shoulders. "Look how high I am, 'Melia!" she shrieked.

"I see you," said Amelia with a laugh. She shot Joey an appreciative smile and he shrugged, causing Rachel to giggle even more as she swayed back and forth on top of his shoulders.

"Joey," she whispered in a not so quiet voice. "Answer my question," she pleaded.

"I was hoping this would distract her," he muttered towards Amelia.

Amelia shook her head and whispered "Feel free to ignore her, she'll forget about it in five minutes." That was a lie, but she didn't want to push him.

Turns out she didn't have to.

"Somehow I doubt that," he answered. As if on cue, Rachel began to tap lightly on the top of his head. Amelia shot her a warning look, and she giggled, stopping her movements.

"It's okay if you're embarrassed," whispered Rachel. She was still under the impression that Joey was the only one who could hear her. "House gets embarrassed about Mommy sometimes."

"Well House is silly, isn't he?" said Joey.

"Very silly," said Rachel, nodding in agreement. "But he _really _likes Mommy, I think. Sometimes he tells her he loves her when he thinks I can't hear him, or that I'm asleep. And it makes Mommy smile, and I like to see Mommy smile."

Amelia's face softened, and Joey eyes darted over towards Amelia's. He lifted his arms and grabbed Rachel before carefully setting her back down on the ground.

He crouched down so he was level with her, and he motioned for her to come closer. "Think you can keep a secret?" he whispered.

Amelia rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest as she shot Joey a playful look. Rachel nodded excitedly, and Joey turned his head from left to right, pretending to check if Amelia could hear.

"I like to see Amelia smile, too. Does that answer your question?"

Rachel giggled and turned her head towards Amelia. She gave her a thumbs-up, and the smile that had already formed on Amelia's lips widened.

* * *

His lips were on hers the minute they stepped in the door. His hands were pushing her shirt up, desperate to feel her soft skin beneath his fingertips. She moaned into him as he pushed her against the wall, their lips separating as she lifted her arms up.

He pulled her shirt over her head and her hands moved to his jacket, slipping it off and letting it fall to the ground.

"I see you went with the push up this morning," he murmured. His lips made contact with the soft spot on the side of her neck, and Cuddy let out a moan as his teeth nipped at her skin.

She moved her head to the side and caught his lips in hers as she wrapped her hands around his neck and walking him back towards the bedroom. "I was just thinking proactively," she answered as she pulled away.

House smirked before pressing his lips against hers once more. Her breath hitched and she parted her lips slightly, granting his tongue entrance.

She felt his hand move to the clasp of her bra as their lips crashed together, and they separated for the briefest of moments as he slid her bra down her shoulders.

They'd made it to the bedroom, and Cuddy quickly pushed his t-shirt up as his hands began to run up and down her back. She gently pushed him back onto the bed and fell on top of him, her hair cascading over her face.

House's lips immediately went to her bare chest, and she arched her back slightly as she felt his tongue run across her already hardened nipples. "Oh god," she murmured. Her nails dug into his shoulder, and House removed himself from her chest, causing her to groan out in frustration.

He silenced her by pulled her down towards him and covering her lips with his own, moaning into her. Her hands fell to his chest, and House took the opportunity to shift his weight and flip on top of her.

His hand encircled her breast, his thumb applying pressure to just the right spot. "Not fair," she said through gritted teeth.

House smirked and moved his other hand to the button on her jeans, unfastening it as fast as he could. "All is fair in love and war," he said.

Cuddy's breath hitched as she felt his hand slide down her thigh as he pushed her jeans down. "I wasn't aware we were warring," she said playfully.

Once her jeans were off, she sat up and placed one hand around his neck, distracting him by tugging at the hairs that rested at the nape of his neck, while her free hand slowly ran down his chest.

"Aren't we always?" he asked as he swiftly removed her underwear. Cuddy shot him a glare—he was undressing her faster than she was undressing him.

Her hand cupped the bulge in his pants, and she smirked as she watched him shudder a breath. She ran a finger up and down the outline of his length, and he clenched his jaw as she suddenly removed it and directed it towards the button of his jeans.

She expertly undid the button with one sweeping motion, and then took him by surprise when she fell back against the bed. He moved on top of her, his lips connecting with hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Cuddy shot him a wicked grin before spreading her legs the tiniest bit and moving them up to his waist. She pushed down his jeans with her toes, while simultaneously dragging his head to her chest.

He moaned into her chest, nipping at her skin as he felt the sensation of her silky smooth legs sliding down his side.

"Now who's not playing fair?" he grunted

Cuddy smirked and moved her hands down his back before resting at the hem of his skin-tight boxers. She began to kiss up his neck before settling at the base of his ear. She tugged at his ear with her teeth, and he shuddered a breath.

She let go of his ear as she pushed his boxers down. "Payback's a bitch," she whispered.

"You have no idea how much I love you," said House. Cuddy smiled—it was more of the 'you have no idea how much I love fucking you' type of confession, but the words still brought a smile to her face.

But then she felt his lips gently brush hers, and she couldn't help but think his words held more meaning than he led on.

"I love you too," she said between kisses. Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment, and they didn't speak, but no words were needed. It was as if everything they had said to each other earlier in the day had been confirmed with one, smoldering, passionate look.

They no longer needed words. The look in his eyes spoke volumes.

His head fell to the crook of her shoulder as he entered her, and she gasped as her hands tore at his hair, her teeth biting down on his shoulder as he moved inside of her.

Cuddy wrapped her leg around his waist, and she didn't know it was possible, but she felt him go deeper into her, causing her to cry out in satisfaction.

He thrust further into her and he swallowed hard as she arched her back and dug her nails into his skin.

"_God_, Cuddy," he said through gritted teeth, leaning his forehead towards hers. She lifted her lips up towards his, catching him in a kiss as he moved within her.

Their game of cat and mouse continued for what seemed like hours—not that either one was complaining.

Cuddy had managed to flip on top of him, and his hands roamed up and down her back before reaching her neck. He slowly sat up and pressed his forehead against hers, thrusting into her one last time.

Her breath hitched and he gasped as their muscles contracted and they simultaneously sent each other over the edge. She threw her head back and he buried his head in the crook of her neck, their cries filling the room.

Their breathing eventually calmed, and she smiled as she relaxed her hands on top of his shoulders.

"We could always call this one a draw," she said huskily.

He smirked at her and sweetly pressed his lips against hers.

"I like the sound of that," he murmured.

* * *

Cuddy had been distracted the next morning at work. She was almost late to a meeting, practically spilled her coffee all over one of her coworkers, and left one of her patients in the MRI room for an extra twenty minutes.

She couldn't get his words out of her head.

_I can't practice medicine again. I can't practice medicine again. I can't practice medicine again._

She drummed her pen against the surface of her desk as thoughts swirled around in her head. There had to be something she could do. She was a powerful doctor with connections like you wouldn't believe—there had to be _something. _

But every solution she came up with was thwarted by the fact that according to the world, Gregory House was dead.

As powerful and convincing as she was, there was nothing she could do to fix that.

Unless….no. He would hate her. They'd managed to get over the vicodin issue, and they were in a good place. It would be foolish of her to throw all of that away.

But maybe he would understand. Maybe he wouldn't look at it like she was giving up on them. Maybe he would understand that it was exactly what their relationship needed in order to succeed.

But 'maybes' were risky. And she hated to admit it, but with House, she always assumed the worst.

She took a deep breath before pushing her chair away from her desk. She got up and walked over to her briefcase. She counted her steps as the click of her heels filed the room.

_One…you can turn around…Two…you don't have to do this…Three…yes you do…Four….he's going to hate you…Five…it's going to be worth it in the end…Six…he loves you….Seven….he loves you…Eight….he loves you…Nine…what if he stops….Ten…you have to trust that he won't._

She stared at her briefcase for a moment before opening. She sighed as she picked up her address book and looked for a name she never thought she'd need again.

Cuddy walked back over to her desk and picked up her blackberry, dialing the numbers before she changed her mind.

"Hi, it's Lisa," she said greeting the voice on the other end. "Look, I know we haven't spoken in years, and I might be the last person you want to hear from, but I think I need your help."

* * *

_A/N: Wrut-wroh. Like I said before, this chapter is a litte iffy to me. I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Thanks for reading!_

_-Alison_


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter-some of you tried to guess who Cuddy had called, and that was fun to read! This chapter was emotionally difficult to write, but I'm pleased with the way it turned out, so I hope you are too. _

* * *

Lisa Cuddy nervously tapped her four-inch heel clad foot against the floor as she waited. It was nearing one in the afternoon, which meant her lunch date should be arriving soon.

She checked her watch once more. She could still leave, if she wanted to. She had about a ten-minute window where she could bolt out of the restaurant as quickly as possible and pretend like none of this had ever happened. She could come with some type of excuse, apologize for the inconvenience, and go back to her life as normal.

Normal.

She scoffed at the concept of that.

She couldn't back out. She _wouldn't_ back out. Not now, at least.

Her phone rang and her heart dropped for the briefest of moments; maybe she didn't have to be the one to call this off. Maybe fate was taking hold of her life.

Fate. She wasn't sure she believed in that anymore.

Cuddy dug through her purse and pulled out her blackberry. House's name was displayed on the screen, and she paused, debating whether or not she should pick up the phone. She checked her watch once more and decided to answer it.

After all, this may be the last normal conversation they have for a while.

"Hey," she said, smiling into the phone.

"Hey," he answered. "I didn't hear you leave this morning."

She cringed at the sadness in his voice. If the guilt wasn't killing her before, it definitely was now.

"Sorry," she said. "You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you up." That was half-true, at least. She was close to breaking down completely at the sound of his shallow breath as she made futile attempts to sleep last night. "What are you doing?" she asked, trying to move the conversation along.

"Joey is dragging me to some wine tasting in Charlottesville. He says it's because he wants to get some new wine for the bar, but really I think he's taking me to the mountains to confess his undying love for me."

A smile escaped her lips, and she let out a slight laugh. "I'll be sure to let Amelia know she has some competition," she answered.

"Speaking of, I'm doing my best to drag it out of him, but he's not budging."

Cuddy smiled at his concern. "She's not saying a word about it either."

"I guess we'll have to let the little kiddies handle this on their own. They grow up so fast," he said mockingly.

Cuddy laughed again, and House smiled on the other end of the phone.

"I should go, we're getting ready to leave. I probably won't be back until later though. I think we're coming straight back here to open the bar."

She was silent for a moment. If he wasn't going to be back for a while, she had time to figure everything out. To come up with a plan, to strategize.

Give herself some time to change her mind. No. She couldn't do that. He needed this. She needed this.

_They needed this. _

"Cuddy?" he asked, pulling her out of her trance. "You still there?"

"What?" she asked. "Sorry, yeah I'm here."

"You okay? You know, you could always blow off work and come with me. I'll ditch Joey in a heartbeat."

Cuddy smiled. "As tempting as that sounds, I have a lot of work to do."

Work, right. Her go to excuse for everything.

"Suit yourself. I'll see you later?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, smiling into the phone. "Let me know when you get back into the city."

They said their goodbyes and she hung up the phone. Cuddy checked her watch once more; it was 12:58. She had approximately two minutes.

She took a sip of the coffee that she had ordered. She should have told him what she was doing. She should have checked with him first. After all, it was his life she was talking about.

But she knew he would never go for it. She couldn't say she blamed him.

Cuddy set her coffee back on the table and threw her hair behind her back as she sat up straight, attempting to busy herself.

Her foot was still tapping against the floor when she heard the unforgettable southern drawl of her lunch date.

"Hi Lisa."

Cuddy smiled and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. She stood up and gave her friend a hug.

"Hi Stacy," she said, pulling away.

"You look great," she said, holding her hand out towards Cuddy.

Cuddy smiled. She didn't know why, but she'd spent a little extra time on her appearance earlier in the morning. She'd put on a dress that was perhaps half an inch too short and much too tight, and blown her hair out straight.

"So do you," she said. And it was the truth—Stacy had aged gracefully over the years. Her hair was longer and her features were more defined, but she still enumerated that classic look of understated beauty. "Please, sit down," she said.

Cuddy hoped Stacy couldn't hear the nervousness in her voice.

Stacy gave her a polite smile and sat down in the chair across from her. "I'm actually really glad you called. I meant to call you after I heard about Greg, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

Cuddy swallowed hard and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"I'm sorry," said Stacy, her face softening at Cuddy's uncomfortable state. "We can get to that later. I hear you adopted?"

"I did," said Cuddy, deciding it was best to just play along with Stacy's small talk. She would get to the messy part later. "Rachel. She's five now. What about you? How's Mark doing?"

"Better, thanks." Stacy eyed Cuddy suspiciously, who was nervously fidgeting with the bracelet on her wrist. "Lisa?"

Cuddy looked up and raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just a little distracted. Tell me about Mark. He made a full recovery?"

Stacy shook her head. "Lisa, I know you didn't ask me here so we could have small talk. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Are you in some type of trouble?"

"Not me, exactly. I have something I need to tell you. But if I tell you this, there is no going back. And he may never forgive me," she said.

Stacy nodded her head, slowly beginning to understand. "Okay," she said, drawing the word out. "Who is the 'he' you're referring to?"

Cuddy didn't answer right away. She took a deep breath and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her blackberry, which she had foolishly placed between her and Stacy, began to vibrate. She closed her eyes as House's name lit up on her phone.

Usually she enjoyed House's weird and sometimes undecipherable text messages—but he couldn't have had worse timing.

Stacy drew in a sharp breath and nervously ran a hand through her hair. She squared her shoulders and faced Cuddy. She'd looked liked she'd just seen a ghost.

Then Cuddy realized, for all intents and purposes, she kind of had.

"Do you need to get that?" she asked

Cuddy was taken aback by her snide tone—although she couldn't really say she blamed her.

She sighed and threw her phone into her purse. She glanced back up at Stacy, who had a look of disbelief on her face and was twiddling with the cross that was permanently wrapped around the silver chain on her neck.

"I guess that answers the 'who' question," muttered Cuddy.

"Lisa, what the hell is going on?" she hissed.

Cuddy once again, found herself going silent. She closed her eyes as she racked her brain for the appropriate words; she hadn't expected the conversation to be this hard.

All she had to do was say three simple words. _House isn't dead. _

But that's the thing about words. Once you say them, you can rarely ever take them back.

"He's alive, isn't he?"

Cuddy breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. She opened her mouth to respond, but was quickly cut off.

"I can't believe this," said Stacy. Cuddy looked up and gave her a knowing look, and Stacy shrugged her shoulders as she reconsidered her words. "Actually, I can believe this. Does he have any idea what he has put people through? What about Wilson? Did he even consider how losing a best friend would affect a cancer patient?"

Cuddy sighed; she knew Stacy was going to have questions, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by the situation. But the minute Stacy had been clued in on what was going on, Cuddy felt as if a burden had been lifted from her chest.

Did that make her a bad person? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she even cared. Sure, there was guilt. But there was also something else: hope.

"Wilson is actually the reason he did what he did. Look, I can give you all the details later, but right now, his reasoning isn't important. The fact is that he faked his death. And I need your help to…fix it."

"How did you even get involved in all of this?" asked Stacy. Cuddy brought a hand to her head. Stacy and all of her damn _questions. _"Lisa, this doesn't sound like you."

"I know," said Cuddy. "But House…causes me to do things that I normally wouldn't do."

Stacy nodded in agreement and leaned closer. "What exactly do you want me to do? The last time Greg and I saw each other we didn't exactly leave on the greatest of terms."

Cuddy had to force herself from cringing at Stacy's use of his first name. To her, he had always been House—nothing else. But he let Stacy call him Greg. And she knew it was silly and immature, and she didn't even _want _to call him Greg, but she couldn't help but let the green-eyed monster peak it's head out; there was a small part of her that worried that maybe her connection with House was never as strong as his connection with Stacy.

She took a deep breath before answering. "I need you to help me turn him in."

"Turn him in?" she asked, confused. "You do know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes," said Cuddy definitively. "But he's going to need a lawyer. And you're the only one I trust to protect him."

"Lisa, if this is some type of revenge…"

"It's not," she said, cutting Stacy off. Cuddy's voice grew softer, and for the second time in the span of half an hour, she felt tears begin to form in her eyes. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm trying to help him."

"By sending him back to jail?"

"I'm not sending him back to jail," she fired back. Stacy backed away, and Cuddy suddenly regretted her biting tone. This wasn't Stacy's fault; it was his—and hers, to some extent. "I'm getting him his life back."

"He may not see it that way. Trust me, I've been there."

Cuddy had been trying not to think about the blatant parallelism to her situation and Stacy's. She was going behind his back to improve his life. She was doing it because she loved him.

But she was also lying straight to his face.

"I love him," she said softly. Stacy smiled apologetically at her; she knew the feeling all too well. "But I can't sit back and watch him throw his life away anymore."

* * *

"I can't believe you dragged me to a winery," House muttered. "Do you have any idea how _gay _that is?"

Joey rolled his eyes and took a sip of the wine in front of him, cringing as the bitter liquid went down his throat. "We're here on business. Besides, what were you going to do back at home?"

"Watch tv, do a couple crosswords," said House, mulling over his options. "Cuddy," he added.

Joey scoffed and took a sip from a different glass; it wasn't as bad as the first one. "The mom's will love this one," he said, pointing to the glass in front of him. "You know, Lisa told me you took her to a winery once."

"No I didn't," said House. He sighed; he was going to kill her.

Joey eyed him suspiciously. "Why would she lie about something like that?" he asked

"Because she's a pathological liar," he said.

Joey shook his head. "I think you're getting your roles reversed. She said you guys drove out to some winery when you lived in New Jersey, had dinner outside, the whole nine yards. Sounds impressive."

"Yeah, well I was trying to get laid. Spoiler alert: it worked. Speaking of, having any luck with blondie?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in what's happening with Amelia?" he asked

"I'm not," said House, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm interested in what _isn't_ happening. It's my second nature to be nosy. You'll learn soon enough."

Joey sighed. "I don't know, man. I'm treading very carefully with that one."

"You're drinking wine, you won't put the moves on Amelia—are you sure you're not gay?" asked House mockingly

"I'm ignoring you now," said Joey. He took a sip of wine from a different glass and nodded; he liked that one. "Try this," he said, handing the glass to House. "Lisa would probably like it."

House took a sip and then shrugged; Joey was right, Cuddy would love it.

Joey wrote down one of the names of the wines that he had tasted on the napkin in front of him.

"What are you doing?" House asked

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm writing down the name of one of the wines," said Joey.

House limped over to where Joey stood and peered over his shoulder, and then glanced back to the glass. "You hated that one," he said accusingly.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "But Amelia would love it."

House smirked. "Good for you," he said, giving him a strange yet not unwelcome slap on the shoulder. House's eyes darted back over to the glass that he had taken a sip from moments ago. Cuddy had been at work all day, on top of dealing with all of his crap in the past few days.

The least he could do was buy her a bottle of wine.

"Hand me that pen will you?" he asked.

* * *

"I still can't believe this," said Stacy.

They had gone back to Cuddy's home after lunch—not that either one of them really ate anything. Stacy was in one chair and Cuddy was in the other; Cuddy figured her house was much better suited for the seemingly endless conversation she was having with Stacy.

"I know," said Cuddy, nodding her head. "I'm sorry, I should have told someone the minute I found out. I let this get way out of hand."

Stacy shook her head. "This isn't your fault, Lisa. You know Greg, he's always pulling stunts like this. I'm surprised he hasn't done something like this before."

"Actually," began Cuddy, a smile forming on her face as the memories flooded back to her, "he tried to convince everyone that he had cancer a couple of years back. He had scans made and everything. All so he could get this damn surgery that would permanently increase the amount of serotonin in his brain."

"Son of a bitch," said Stacy, laughing along with Cuddy. "Is it pathetic that I'm relived?"

Cuddy eyed her suspiciously. She knew there were still…feelings that Stacy made unsuccessful attempts to hide about House, but that had been the one thing she hadn't considered. She'd thought about how it was going to affect her, and how it was going to affect House—she hadn't though about how it was going to affect Stacy.

She didn't know what that said about her as a person.

She decided not to think about it.

"About House not being dead?" she asked, entering back into the conversation. She saw Stacy raise an elegant eyebrow and tug at the cross on her neck. She was nervous.

"There are approximately seven people House has allowed to stay in his life for longer than a week," said Cuddy. "Number that small means that when House lets you in, you're in for the long haul—whether you want to be or not. You loved each other once, it's not surprising that you would feel that way."

Stacy was shocked by her…directness. Yes, that was the word. She didn't know why she was surprised; Lisa Cuddy wasn't one to beat around the bush. It was why despite everything else, they had always gotten along.

She turned her head towards Cuddy, a look of confusion on her face. "Why didn't you go to the funeral? I looked for you."

Cuddy bowed her head and closed her eyes as she let out a disbelieving scoff. She didn't have time to respond, and she turned her head towards Stacy as she continued.

"Mark didn't understand. Mark never understood," she added softly. Cuddy shot her a sympathetic smile, which Stacy shrugged off. "I thought you might."

"I didn't know," she said, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. "When I left Princeton I told myself that the only way I was going to get over what had happened was to cut out that part of my life completely."

"That doesn't sound like you," said Stacy, raising her eyebrows.

Cuddy sighed and shook her head; she was right, after all.

"It wasn't me," she said. "It was my therapist, my mother, my sister, basically everyone in my life was telling me to get the hell out. The point is, I didn't know. Wilson didn't tell me what had happened until after the funeral. He asked me to go…find him, make sure he was okay. I thought about turning him in when I heard. But then I saw him, and I just…didn't."

"Why didn't you?" asked Stacy, her voice was calm, but her eyes were full of questions.

Cuddy appreciated her downplaying her emotions—she had enough thoughts swirling around in her head. She wasn't sure she could handle Stacy's as well as her own.

"Same reason you went to his funeral," answered Cuddy as she shrugged her shoulders.

Stacy nodded in understanding. "It's interesting," said Stacy.

"What is?" Cuddy eyed her quizzically, and Stacy pursed her lips, pausing before answering.

"James called you," she said. Her voice was soft with a hint of pain etched in between her words, which Cuddy, once again, chose to ignore, "he didn't think to call me. And I'm the one with the law degree."

"Stacy," began Cuddy. But she was quickly cut off—thankfully so, considering she really had no idea what to say to her.

"It's okay," she said, causing Cuddy to slightly relax. "Wilson was looking for someone who could save Greg. I haven't been that person for a long time."

"And you think I am?" asked Cuddy incredulously.

Stacy paused and furrowed her brow; she was clearly searching for the right thing to say. "I think he was willing to let himself get hurt by you a second time. He wasn't willing to do that with me."

Cuddy's face softened, and she let out an audible sigh. "I always knew he could break my heart. I never though I'd break his," she said.

Stacy sent her a wavering look. "You underestimate how much he loves you, Lisa. I've been gone for years, and it's even clear to me," she said, giving her a soft smile.

"I know he loves me," said Cuddy definitively. It was the truth—she had never doubted the way House felt about her. "I just never thought he'd give me his heart to break," she muttered.

And she hadn't. There was a difference between loving someone and surrendering your heart to them completely—and the two weren't always mutually exclusive.

"Is that what you think you're doing?" asked Stacy. Cuddy shrugged her shoulders. She was betraying him just by sitting there with Stacy. There was no way to spin that.

No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.

"You're giving him his life back. He won't like it, but he'll accept it."

"What if he doesn't?" she asked, her voice full of worry. God, she had felt so confident about her decision yesterday. But now that it was here, looking her directly in the face, she wasn't sure she was making the right one.

"I'm a lawyer," said Stacy. "I can be very convincing," she joked.

Cuddy smiled at that and began to relax. She knew she had to do this; she knew it was the right thing to do. But god, it was killing her.

She didn't want to think about what it was going to do him when she finally told him what she was up to.

Cuddy froze as she heard the sound of the door jiggling open.

"Shit," she muttered. She checked her watch; it couldn't be Amelia, the timing of the day wasn't right.

Which only left House.

"Excuse me," she said to Stacy, who seemed just about as scared as she was.

Cuddy got up out of the chair and walked as quickly as she could to the door. The clicking sound of her heels seemed to mimic the rapid pace of her quivering heartbeat, and she took hurried steps towards the door.

Damage control.

That's what she had to focus on. She had to stall to give herself, and Stacy for that matter, some time to figure out where to go from here.

She cursed him inwardly. He'd said he wasn't going to be home between now and going to the bar; darkness was just about to fall, so it didn't make sense for him to come home.

Cuddy took a deep breath as the knob turned open. She had about two seconds before she had to face him. She squared her shoulders, readying herself for the battle that was inevitably going to occur.

"Hey," he said, as he walked in. He eyed her suspiciously; Cuddy wasn't one to wait by the door. "You on your way out?" he asked, confused.

Cuddy shook her head and gave him a forced smile. "No, I just left something on the table by the door, and then I heard you coming in," she said.

Her voice began to drift, and she knew she was rambling and not making much sense, and she knew that _he _knew that, but for some reason, he chose to ignore it.

So she did the thing that felt most natural to her. She gave him a smile—a genuine one this time, and placed her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Hi," she murmured as she pulled away from him, her lips lingering on his for a moment longer than they usually did.

"If that's the reaction I get for walking in the door, I can't wait to see what happens when I give you your present," he said. "Should I take my pants off now, or would you rather wait?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, ignoring his last comment and taking a step back from him. House rarely ever bought her anything.

He shrugged his shoulders and handed her the brown paper bag that he'd been hiding behind his back. "Open it and see," he said.

Cuddy ripped the paper off rather excitedly, and House smirked at her semi-childish behavior. She pulled the bottle of wine out of the bag, and looked up at him, a smile on her face.

"I got it at the winery we were at. I thought about getting you one of those stomper outfits, but then I realized how much clothes they had to wear. Figured this would be easier," he joked.

"Thank you," she said. "Smells good," she said, bringing the bottle to her nose.

"Open it up," he said, placing his hand on her arm and rubbing it up and down. "I have time before I have to head over to the bar. Where's the munchkin?" he asked

He slipped out of his jacket and Cuddy froze. She had about thirty more seconds. Twenty-five, if you counted the time it took for her to register his question.

"She's with Amelia. They're having some sort of Princess movie night," she said.

House hung up his jacket on the knob near the bar, his back to her as he spoke. "Come to the bar later. We can make out in one of the bathroom stalls. It'll be fun."

Cuddy smirked and opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off. "Any reason we're just standing in the foyer?" he asked.

House limped past her, and she sighed; her thirty-second time-frame was quickly diminishing.

"House, wait," she called out.

But it was too late; he had already made it to the living room. Cuddy took a deep breath as she followed him and ran a hand through her hair. She tucked the bottle of wine underneath her arm as she tried to catch up.

"Hi Greg," she heard Stacy say.

Cuddy took hurried steps over to where House stood. He was frozen in his spot, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. Cuddy paused, not sure what she should do.

She placed a tentative hand on his arm, gently rubbing it as she tried to ease the shock—or the pain, that he was undoubtedly experiencing.

House turned his head towards Cuddy, and she knew he could see the guilt in her eyes.

"I take it she's the reason."

* * *

"You had no right to do this," he said. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

Cuddy sighed as she paced back and forth. They had retreated to her bedroom after the initial shock had worn off, leaving Stacy alone in the living room.

Well, not completely alone. The wine was out there too.

House was sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over with his head hanging low. His voice was loud and firm, but he wasn't yelling—he sounded hurt more than anything else.

And that was so much worse than yelling.

"You had no right to put me in this situation in the first place," she snapped. She knew it was a bullshit response, and that he wouldn't even _begin _to accept it.

He shook his head. She could see the opposition forming in his eyes, and she cringed as his voice pierced the air. "Nobody forced you into this, Cuddy. You knew exactly what you were doing when you picked me up that night."

"I know," she said. She stopped and turned to face him, her hand poised at the edge of her temple. "But what did you think was going to happen, House? Did you think we could just keep going like this?"

"Like what? I was under the impression that we were doing just fine. Clearly you disagree," he exclaimed, pointing his arm out at her.

"We're not _fine_, House. You don't exist. Period. Do you understand what that means?"

"Do I _understand_? What kind of question is that? Of course I understand what it means. I've been dealing with it for the past year. I thought that for half of that time we'd been dealing with it _together. _I guess I was wrong there too."

Cuddy sighed and walked over to him. "You're not wrong," she said. "You're never wrong," she added. House scoffed—he wasn't going to let her get away with this by trying to stroke his ego. "But we've been kidding ourselves thinking that we can live this way for the rest of our lives. And don't even try to deny it, I know you've been thinking it too."

"What part of 'I choose you over being a doctor' did you not understand? Did I stutter when I was pouring my heart out to you? Or did you just conveniently forget what I said in order to rationalize what you're doing?"

Cuddy cringed, the words practically slapping her across the face. "Rationality is your wheel house, not mine," she snapped back. She ran a hand through her hair and started to pace back and forth again.

House began to rub his leg, and she tried not to notice as he swallowed hard, the pain evident in his face.

"You weren't supposed to find out this way," she said. She knew that was no consolation, but she didn't know what else she was supposed to say.

"So tell me, how exactly were you going to go about it? Were we going to sit down, have a nice meal, and then mid-fork you pipe up and say 'oh honey, by the way I'm sending you back to jail'?"

"I'm getting you your life back," she hissed. "That's what I'm doing." She had lost count of how many times she had said that phrase today.

"But just to clarify, you're doing that by sending me back to jail?"

Cuddy didn't answer. She bit down on the bottom of her lip and folded her arms across her chest, bowing her head so she was staring intently at the ground.

She couldn't bear to look him in the eye.

"And what type of life are you planning on getting back for me? You're essentially ripping apart the only life that I have."

Her face fell at his admission; he was right, she was the only thing he had left.

She closed the gap between them and sat down next to him. He didn't face her, and when she reached her hand out, he promptly jerked it away from her. Cuddy took a deep breath before answering.

"If you do this now, you can be a doctor again. You don't have to hide here, working at a bar and wasting your life away."

"You don't seem to mind me wasting my life away when I'm lying next to you at night," he said. "Do you understand what this means? I will go to jail, for who knows how long. And we will be right back where we were two years ago."

Cuddy sighed and took a deep breath as she tried not to choke on the tears that were forming in the back of her throat. She grabbed his hand and wouldn't let go—she couldn't let go, and after a while, he stopped fighting her.

He turned his head towards her, and she could see the fear and worry etched across his face. He was scared, and angry, and upset, and he was blaming her for everything.

And a part of her knew she deserved it, but a part of him knew he deserved it more.

"I would rather face living without you now, than spend the rest of our lives pretending you're somebody that you're not," she said, her voice soft and warm.

House didn't reciprocate her tone. "That's easy for you to say," he exclaimed. "You get to stay here, go to work, come home to your perfect little family and praise yourself for being such a good person. I on the other hand, will be rotting away in jail."

Cuddy scoffed and quickly released her hand from his. "Don't you dare bring Rachel into this," she said, narrowing her eyes maliciously at him. "This is about you, and you finally_ dealing_ with your issues instead of running away from them."

"Exactly!" he said. He got up from the edge of the bed and Cuddy sighed, knowing he wasn't finished. "This is about me. This is my choice to make, not yours. And it sure as hell isn't Stacy's. What is with the two of you making life-altering decisions about me behind my back? Why don't you just go ahead and cut off my other leg while you're at it."

Cuddy didn't even dignify what he said with a response. She got up and walked to the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door shut on her way in.

She couldn't believe he was throwing _that _in her face. The guilt was consuming her to the point where she wasn't sure she could breathe. Her hand lingered on the doorknob and the mix of her ragged breaths and choked back sobs filled the room.

Cuddy knew House could hear her on the other side of the door; she had heard him take the steps to follow her, but she had slammed the door before he could stop her. She was glad he could hear her; he had to realize that this was killing her just as much as it was killing him.

Her thoughts wandered to Stacy, who was sitting alone in her living room. She was sure she had heard every word they had said to each other, but she didn't care. That was the least of her concerns right now.

She felt the tug of the doorknob and the sound of three raps on the door, and she swallowed hard as she looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Finally, she released her grip on the handle, and House pushed open the door.

Cuddy stood slumped against the frame of the door, and House sighed at the sight of her tear stained cheeks. "If you're still freaked out about the vicodin," he said, his voice trailing.

Cuddy shook her head. "I'm not," she said turning towards him as she reassured his fears. "That's not what this is about."

"Then why now?" he asked, his eyes questioning.

"Because I love you," she said softly as her eyes looked up to meet his. "Because I need you to be who you are, because _you _need to be who you are. Pick whichever feeds your ego the most and let's move on."

"You should have told me what you were doing," he said. He didn't address anything else she had said.

Just the betrayal, the lying—her constant need to _fix _everything, even things that weren't broken yet.

Yet, being the operative word.

He walked out of the bathroom and tried not to think about the fact that maybe she was right.

* * *

"You know damn good and well that this isn't her fault," said Stacy.

House stared into the glass of the scotch that he had poured himself; he needed something a little stronger than the wine. He turned his head towards the direction of Cuddy's bedroom, and took a sip as he realized her door was still shut.

Cuddy had yet to emerge, and for the slightest moment, he considered walking right out the front door. He could do it. Run, that is. Try and pretend that the last seven months hadn't happened. Take enough vicodin to numb the pain and casually drift away in the midst of the night.

But then his eyes drifted over to the bottle of wine that he had bought her, and he was suddenly reminded of all the reasons he _couldn't _do that.

"I didn't ask for her help," he said, deciding that was a proper response. No denial, but no affirmation either.

"You never ask for anyone's help," said Stacy, pursing her lips and turning her head towards him. "That's why you get so pissed off when people care enough to try and help you. You're not used to it."

"Why are you even here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Stacy answered.

"I was referring to the room, not the planet," he answered.

"Right, I should have known. How silly of me."

House took another sip of his drink, and Stacy did the same, neither quite knowing what to say. She was still getting over the initial shock of his sudden reappearance into her life, and he was—well, he was doing the same thing with her.

He had to hand it to Cuddy, it was a pretty underhanded thing to do. If he hadn't been so scared out of his mind, he would have been impressed.

"You shouldn't be so hard on her," added Stacy.

House scoffed. "I take it you're on Team Cuddy, then."

"Oh she didn't tell you? We're having shirts made," she said, her tone biting. House didn't appreciate her sarcasm and took another sip of his scotch.

"There are apparently lots of things Cuddy doesn't tell me," he bit back.

"I know you Greg," she said, and House paused—no one had used his first name in a long time. "Being a doctor is a part of who you are. You miss the puzzles, you miss playing god with patients, taking risks to get the right answer. I bet a small part of you even misses your team."

He rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. The southern drawl of her voice had a tendency to make every condescending thing she said sound so goddamn polite—it's partly what made her such a great lawyer.

"A lot of things have changed," he said, his words laced with double and triple meanings.

Stacy nodded and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm glad you have her," she said, her eyes gazing to the door that his had been permanently fixed on for the past ten minutes. "I would hate for you to end up alone."

He eyed her suspiciously and she matched him glare for glare.

"What?" she asked, questioning him with every syllable. "You think I don't want you to be happy?"

House shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't think you wanted me to be happy with anyone else," he said.

"You and that damn ego," muttered Stacy. "A part of me will always love you, Greg. But a bigger part of me will always love Mark. Just like a bigger part of you will always love Lisa."

House nodded, confirming her suspicions.

They heard the sound of the door opening, and House's head immediately shot up. He watched as Cuddy took a deep breath and made her way over to where they were sitting.

Stacy nodded at her before getting up from her chair. She grabbed her purse from the table and threw it over her shoulder. "I'm going to leave you two alone. Lisa, you know where to find me if you need me."

Cuddy opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it, deciding that it wasn't worth it. She was going to have to face House for round two sooner or later.

Stacy eyes met House's, and she nodded towards the direction of Cuddy, silently urging him to talk to her.

House ignored her and took a sip of his drink.

Cuddy gave her a small wave, and Stacy smiled apologetically at her before walking out the door.

She walked over to House and placed a tentative hand on his arm. She thanked every God that would still take her when he didn't pull away from her.

"I can't force you into this," she said. "But if it makes any difference, I think it's the right thing to do."

He covered his hand with hers, and stood up; their hands fell to the side, and House pulled her into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she clenched at the fabric of his shirt.

"I know," he said into her hair, breathing in her scent. "You're right."

Cuddy began to shake as she let out the tears she had been holding in, and House rubbed his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.

"Thank you," she murmured into his now tear-stained shirt. She pulled her head away from his chest, and looked up at him. "But let's not talk about it right now," she said.

House eyed her suspiciously; he'd been expecting another conversation.

"Okay," said House, shrugging his shoulders. "Want some wine?" he asked, his eyes darting over to the bottle that he had bought her.

"That sounds perfect," she said, smiling sadly at him.

House nodded and released her from his grip. He grabbed the bottle and she went into the kitchen in search of wine glasses.

As they retrieved their perspective items, they paused before returning to the other, each trying not to think about how everything was about to change.

But what forced each of them to return was the fact that they knew it was for the better.

* * *

_A/N: Brace yourselves-this is only the beginning. Leave a review to let me know your thoughts!_

_-Alison_


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: First of all, I'd just like to apologize for the delay in update. This one took me a bit longer to write. It's a bit different from some of the other chapters, and there are several different interactions-hopefully it's not too choppy. There most likely won't be na update before Halloween, so for those of you participating in festivities, have fun!_ _I'll be at frat parties all weekend long, so let's pray that I make it out alive. _

_Also, I am clearly not a lawyer. I did some research, but to be completely honest, I went with what worked best with the story._

* * *

"Wow," said Amelia. Her bright green eyes scrunched up in confusion, and she shook her head as she took in Cuddy's words.

"I know," said Cuddy. She had just told Amelia the whole story—well, the abridged version at least. Cuddy sipped on the steaming latte that Amelia had brought for her, closing her eyes as she took a much-needed sip.

"I can't believe this," she said. Amelia took a sip of her coffee and then shook her head, suddenly changing her mind. "I mean I _can_, because it's House and it seems like something he would do to piss people off. But that's not the reason he did it. It was so…"

Amelia paused, searching for the correct word.

"Selfless," interjected Cuddy, finding the word for her.

Amelia nodded, and a sad, but almost hopeful smile appeared on Cuddy's face. Amelia shot her a sympathetic look. "Are you okay?" she asked

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders. "I'm getting there," she said. "I wish all of this was enough for him. But it's not, and it never will be. And it's not fair to either one of us to keep pretending that it is."

"You did the right thing, Lisa," reassured Amelia.

"I'm not so sure," she muttered. "I've never felt so guilty about anything in my life." And she hadn't. She used to think that what she did during his infarction would be the worst thing she ever did to him—she quickly learned that she was wrong.

Back then she was just his doctor; sure they knew each other, and they'd shared that one night back in Michigan, but even then it had been just about sex. At least, that was the impression he gave her.

But now it was a completely different story. She wasn't his doctor. She wasn't some random hookup, or colleague—she was hopelessly in love with him, and she was one of the few people he trusted.

She was afraid she'd ruined that.

"Doing the right thing rarely ever makes you feel good. That's why it's so hard to do."

"Well I definitely don't feel _good_," she muttered.

Amelia sent her an apologetic smile. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked. "Does he need a lawyer? Because I have some friends in law school, or I could call Charlie for you. I mean, we haven't spoken in months but…"

Cuddy shook her head and smiled graciously at her as she cut her off. "No, we're fine, really. I've got it under control." Cuddy took a suspiciously long sip of her coffee and cleared her throat.

Amelia cocked her head to the left and sent her a wary look. "Is there more to this story?" she asked.

Cuddy sighed—she had been trying to avoid this conversation. She hadn't been worried about letting Stacy back into their life, but if she talked to Amelia about it, she was afraid she might.

She and House had that impressively irritating ability to expose people's innermost thoughts—sometimes before they even knew them for themselves.

"I forgot you know how to read people," she muttered.

Amelia shrugged and gave her a cocky yet playful smile. "Just you," she said. "You don't hide your emotions very well, Lisa."

Cuddy scoffed, slightly offended. "That is not true," she exclaimed.

"Professionally, yes, you keep your emotions in check. But when it comes to personal conversations, you pretty much wear your heart on your sleeve."

Cuddy paused before shaking her head and taking another sip of coffee. Amelia did the same, a careful eye on her friend. Cuddy sighed and set the coffee on her desk. She lifted a hand to her head and rubbed her temple.

Amelia smiled and took a seat in one of the chairs in Cuddy's office, preparing herself to be vented to.

"I have a lawyer," Cuddy began. Amelia nodded her head along, and Cuddy sighed once more. "Her name is Stacy. She and House sort of have a…history."

"But you trust her," said Amelia, nodding her head in understanding.

Cuddy nodded, and thanked every god that would still take her that Amelia wasn't pushing the issue. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"It doesn't really sound like it," she said.

Cuddy took a deep breath and walked back over to her desk. She glanced at the files on her desk and opened one. Work. Yes, distractions. She was all about the distractions.

Amelia wasn't buying it.

"How is House dealing with all of this?"

Cuddy's eyes honed in on the file in front of her, her pen rapidly moving across it as she scrawled her signature over the case-files.

"He's not exactly thrilled about it," she answered. She shut the file and moved on to the next one, her eyes never leaving the spot on her desk.

"He'll get over it," she said, almost _too_ nonchalantly, which Cuddy happily ignored.

Cuddy nodded as she reached for her cup of coffee and took a sip, trying to ignore the fact that Amelia was only telling her what she knew she needed to hear.

* * *

A few hours, several case files, and almost two cups of coffee later, Cuddy found herself standing outside the door of the bar. They were meeting Stacy there in about half an hour to tune out the finer details of House's case.

She wasn't sure why House had wanted to meet there, and not her home, or her office even, but she decided not to push it. She didn't think she had a right to. Scratch that—she _knew_ she didn't have a right to.

Her perfectly manicured hand was paused on the handle of the door, and she sighed before glancing down at her watch. She was early, but her patient load was light that morning, and the files had distracted her for all of one hour.

Eventually she grew tired of the charade and decided to just leave.

She pushed the door open and smiled at the sight in front of her, suddenly realizing why House had insisted on the bar.

House and Joey were playing some sort of paper football game on the bar, and for the first time in days, he looked somewhat relaxed. It was almost as if the only thing that mattered to him at that moment was getting that piece of paper past Joey's hands.

She hoped and prayed that that was true, even though she knew it wasn't.

Cuddy sighed as she walked over towards them. She saw Joey give her a sympathetic smile, and she nodded at him; House had clearly had the same conversation with him that she'd had with Amelia earlier that morning.

"I call Cuddy," said House, noting her entrance. "She has hands like you wouldn't believe," he said teasingly.

Joey smirked and Cuddy rolled her eyes as she slid into the barstool.

"Sorry," said House, catching her disapproving look. "I only have a limited time to publicly brag about our sex life. I'm just trying to get it all out of my system before I have to head back to the slammer."

"House…" said Joey, somewhat firmly, noting the pained expression in Cuddy's face.

"It's fine," said Cuddy softly, shrugging it off.

"I'm going to leave you two alone," he said. House glared at him, and Joey shifted his eyes over to Cuddy, urging him to at least say hello to her.

House rolled his eyes as Joey walked away. He picked up the paper football and held it between his hands, concentrating before flicking it in his direction.

He sighed as he barely missed the back of his head.

"You're early," he said, turning his head towards her. "How many cups of coffee and patient files did it take for you to realize you were too distracted to focus on anything else?"

Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him; she hated that he knew her so well.

"You're an ass sometimes, you know that?"

"Sometimes?" House asked, egging her on. "Here," he said, pulling something out from a bag under his stool. "I'm also assuming you've neglected to eat anything all day."

He handed her one of those salads that she seemed to love so much, and she smiled at him before taking it in her hands. "Not all the time," she said, referencing back to his previous statement.

He lovingly placed his hand in the space just below her shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly for a brief moment.

"Did you tell him?" Cuddy stabbed her salad with her fork and took a bite as her eyes shifted towards the back room.

House nodded. "He laughed for a minute, called me an ass, and then we started playing paper football. You tell Amelia?"

Cuddy took another bite of her salad and then set her for down. "Yeah," she said between bites. "She lied to make me feel better. It was nice."

House let out a slight laugh and Cuddy smiled; they sure knew how to pick friends.

"Rachel isn't going to be that easy," she said, somewhat seriously.

House sighed and lifted a hand to his forehead.

"Do you want me to—"

"No," she said, interjecting. "I'm going to tell her tonight. She'll take it better if it comes from me."

"You sure?" he asked. He knew she was right, but a part of him felt a little guilty.

Guilt? From a five year old? He wasn't sure when that had happened.

Cuddy nodded and let out a deep breath. She pushed her salad in front of her and got up, and House eyed her suspiciously. She began to pace back and forth in front of him, and he sighed—this little dance of hers had become more familiar than he'd like.

House got up and walked over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. "Cuddy," he said, his voice firm.

"What?" she asked, clearly irritated that he had interrupted her stress-reducing remedy—even though it wasn't working. Not that she would tell him that.

"You need to relax," he said. He turned her around and pushed her towards the back of the bar, rubbing her shoulders as they walked.

"Where are we going?"

House didn't answer, which only seemed to make her even tenser.

He stopped her at the piano and let his hands fall from her shoulders. "Sit," he said, motioning towards the bench.

"House what are you—"

"Will you please just sit down?" he asked, agitated. When did she become more stubborn than he was?

Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him and let out a slight huff, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she reluctantly sat down on the surprisingly cold bench. She shifted uncomfortably as she waited for House to explain what was going on, placing her forearm on the top of the piano.

Her hair cascaded over her face as her eyes moved to the keys in front of her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she took a deep breath as she felt House's hand resting on her back.

He steadied himself on her as he sat down, although the placement of his hand on her back was more for her benefit than his own. His right hand drifted to the white as ivory keys, while his left remained on her back.

Cuddy smiled as the soft sound of the piano playing began to fill the room.

"You've convinced yourself that this is entirely your fault," he began, his eyes never leaving the keys, "which is not only stupid, it's plain wrong."

Cuddy sat straight up and opened her mouth to protest, but House continued before she could get a word in.

"We are where we are because of me."

His fingers continued to press down on the keys, and Cuddy was suddenly hit with a sense of déjà vu. The piano. The two of them in a somewhat vulnerable state.

"I don't hate you for what you did," he whispered. It was so soft that if she hadn't been trying so hard to listen, she might have missed it completely. "And neither will Rachel."

Cuddy's mouth hung slightly open, and she turned her head towards him. His fingers moved off the keys, and she reached her hand out towards his. He took it and let it fall to the bench as their fingers interlaced.

"You were right to do what you did," he said, shrugging his shoulders. His thumb ran over hers, and her breath hitched as a lump began to form in her throat. She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck as she pulled him in for a hug.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, and her hand began to stroke the stray hairs at the nape of his neck. Her lips met the side of his temple as his nose pressed down on her skin.

"You were right," he said, reiterating it for her once again.

Cuddy breathed a sigh of relief and pulled herself closer to him, her eyes glassy and wet with tears. She stopped trying to hide them.

He tightened his grip on her as the tears streamed down her face.

* * *

Stacy Warner took one last draining sip of her coffee as she walked up to the door of the bar.

She couldn't believe she was back here again. With him. Getting him out of trouble.

Again.

Although technically, she had come to him for help the last time—this time the tables had been turned.

She didn't know why she was surprised. She would never admit this—she had enough trouble admitting it to herself in the first place—but when she had first heard about House and Cuddy, a small part of her had been devastated. Because she knew she'd lost him for good.

Yes she was married, and yes their past was complicated, and yes of course she loved her husband, but even after everything that had happened when she'd come back, she'd kept him in the back of her pocket.

He was just always there, lurking. Taunting her. Every time she was bored, or in desperate need of excitement, her mid would wander to him. And he would always be there. Reminding her of just how much fun he was.

But then her mind would wander to just how _miserable _he was. And how miserable he made her feel.

How alone she felt—even when she was standing in the same room as him.

She always thought that if he could just get it together, if he could just _grow up_, then maybe they could have made it work. If he would just let her in to his life, then maybe, just maybe, they could have been happy together.

But then he did get it together. He did grow up. He did let someone into his life.

It just wasn't her.

She lifted her coffee back to her lips, sighing as she momentarily forgot that she had already finished it. Stacy pushed open the door to the bar and was met with a somewhat unsettling sight.

House and Cuddy were sitting on the bench to the piano, completely oblivious to the fact that she had walked in. They were laughing about something, but Cuddy's voice was unusually weak, and even from a distance, she could see that her eyes were red and slightly puffy.

Stacy presumed that she had been crying.

She saw Cuddy throw her head back in laughter and place a hand on his forearm. What they were laughing about, she had no idea. It didn't matter.

Stacy watched as House pulled her closer to him and pressed his lips to hers for a slight kiss.

The sunlight shone through the window and danced across her gold wedding band. She smiled down at it and then glanced at her now empty cup of coffee. She had about ten minutes before she was supposed to meet them, and strangely, she didn't have the heart to interrupt them.

Another cup of coffee wouldn't hurt.

* * *

"The good thing is that faking your death isn't _technically _against that law," said Stacy, her lips pursed as she thumbed through her legal pad. "It's what you do in order to cover it up that's illegal."

The three of them were seated at the bar, papers strewn about as they tried to formalize some type of plan.

"So really what we're dealing with here is the falsification of medical records and maybe a charge of evading arrest. It also doesn't help that you were still on parole when all of this occurred."

Cuddy sighed. "And here I was thinking things were looking up," she muttered.

She felt the presence of House's hand on her thigh as she spoke, and she took a deep breath as she tried to relax.

"Maximum sentence is five years, but I should be able to plead it down to no more than two. It's an election year, so they're going to be more concerned with the big time drug busts than anything else."

"See," he said, turning towards Cuddy. "It could be a lost worse. I could deal drugs instead of take them."

Cuddy glared at him. She clearly didn't appreciate the joke.

"Speaking of," said Stacy, "it helps that you've been clean. Let's try to keep it that way, shall we? They're more likely to be sympathetic to a drug addict trying to make amends for his past…mistakes."

House nodded and Cuddy placed her hand over his, gripping it tightly. She watched as Stacy's eyes darted to their hands, and a pang of guilt suddenly came over her.

She really needed to get this whole guilt thing in check.

Stacy cleared her throat as she continued to flip through her notes. "The only thing that might give us some trouble would be your history of…instability. I'm going to do my best to keep this out of trial, but if it goes that far, then Lisa, I may need you to testify."

"No," said House, shaking his head. "I don't want a trial. Plead it out and let's be done with it."

"House," said Cuddy as she turned towards him, her voice timid and afraid.

"I don't want to drag this out any longer than it needs to be," he said. Cuddy sighed and pursed her lips as she continued. "And I don't want to put you through all of that. Let's just get this over with."

"This isn't like ripping off a band-aid, House. You don't just "get it over with". If a trial will lessen your sentence…"

"If you really think a judge, or worse, a _jury_ will be sympathetic towards me then you're nowhere near as smart as I thought. I'll have better luck with a plea, right?" he said, turning towards Stacy.

Stacy nodded, and Cuddy sighed before taking a deep breath.

"How long do you think he'll be…?" She couldn't even bring herself to say the words, and was grateful when Stacy found them for her.

"I'm hoping for no more than two years, and I may be able to get it down to a year and six months with good behavior—but I can't promise anything. It helps that you're turning yourself in, and I have a friend in the DA's office who will be sympathetic to your situation, but I think it's best that you both prepare for the worst."

"Which is what?" he asked, his voice shallow and small.

His head was bowed, and at some point he had let go of her hand—she didn't know when. She was glad he had asked; she knew she wouldn't have been able to, and even though the micromanager inside of her was _screaming _to ask Stacy every goddamn question that came to mind, she refrained.

But her brain knew something else, too. Her heart might not be able to take the answers.

And heart trumps brain every time.

"Five years. No parole." Cuddy's eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand, the other flying to House's arm next to her. He closed his eyes as he felt her arm on him.

"But again," said Stacy, "that's the worst case scenario. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Now unfortunately, since the crime was technically served in New Jersey, you're going to have to serve time in Princeton."

"He can't serve time here?" asked Cuddy worriedly. House, tired of sitting down, got up from the barstool.

He cursed himself inwardly as he began to pace back and forth; Cuddy's irritating habit was apparently contagious. Cuddy shot him a worried look as his hand began to rub his leg, but he shrugged her off.

"I'm afraid not," said Stacy. "But it might be for the best. Princeton is smaller, safer. The amenities will be better."

"It's_ jail_," said House, "the amenities don't matter on account of the fact that they're basically non-existent. So stop pretending that you're doing me any favors."

Stacy folded her hands into her lap and straightened her back. Cuddy propped her elbows up on the bar and rubbed her temple with her hands.

"Look Greg, I know you may not believe me, but I'm trying to help you," said Stacy, patronizing him as a hint of her southern accent escaped.

"Yeah," he said, pausing to lean on the bar as he rubbed his leg, "you're doing a great job so far."

Cuddy sighed and got up from her chair, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked towards him. "Don't take this out on her," she said. "This is not her fault."

"You think I don't know that?" he asked. His voice echoed through the bar as his volume rose, and Cuddy took a frightened step back as his arm shot out to the side.

He lowered his arm and clenched his fist at his side. His voice grew soft as the words "This is my fault," escaped his lips.

Cuddy placed her hand on his shoulder and began to rub it up and down, doing her best to comfort him.

They were interrupted by the sound of a little girl singing, and House and Cuddy sighed as they recognized the familiar sound of "Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Pirate's Life for Me" filled the room.

"Great," muttered House.

Stacy continued to sit at the bar, confused by the sudden pause in conversation. Then she saw the little green-eyed girl running towards Cuddy, who had a forced, yet surprisingly believable, smile on her face.

There was also a blonde girl lagging slightly behind her, who looked just as confused as Stacy was.

"Hi Mommy!" yelled Rachel as she ran into Cuddy's arms. Cuddy swooped her up into her arms, letting out a small groan as she felt Rachel's weight on her hip.

"Hi sweetie," she said. "What are you guys doing here?" she asked, directing her question towards Amelia.

"Joey wants to take me to the American History museum so we can see Dumbo," said Rachel excitedly. She cupped her hand over her mouth and did her best to whisper. "But I think he just wants to hang out with 'Melia."

House smirked and Rachel giggled, waving to him as she laid her head on Cuddy's shoulder.

"What are you guys doing here?" asked Amelia. "And where is Joey?"

Cuddy sighed and set Rachel back on the ground, much to her dismay. She was about to protest, but Cuddy sent her a 'don't even think about it' glare. Rachel huffed before crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes darted over to Stacy, and Rachel, who loved nothing more than a brand new playmate, snuck off to where she was sitting.

"Your boy toy is in the back. Go tell him to get out here, he's been hiding long enough," said House.

Amelia rolled her eyes and walked towards the back of the bar.

Somehow, they were all oblivious to the fact that Rachel had wandered off towards Stacy.

Rachel hopped up on the stool next to Stacy, who was trying to make herself look busy by flipping through her legal pad.

"Hi," said Rachel, turning towards her new friend. Well, Rachel had decided they were friends. "Who are you?"

Stacy looked up at Rachel, who was twisting the stool around as she spoke. "My name is Stacy. What's your name?"

"Rachel," she answered. She pointed her finger towards Cuddy and smiled. "That's my mom. Are you her friend?"

"Yes, I've known your mom for a long time," she said.

Rachel's eyes lit up, and then she pointed to House. "Are you friends with House, too?" she asked. "Some people don't like him, but my Mommy does. Which is good because he _really _likes my mom."

Stacy laughed, which caused Rachel to giggle excitedly. "Yes," answered Stacy, "House and I are friends too."

"I'm glad," said Rachel. "He had another friend besides my mom, but he's not here anymore. It made House sad for a long time I think. I don't like him to be sad."

"You know what," said Stacy, leaning closer towards her, "I don't like for him to be sad either."

"Are you a doctor like my Mom?" asked Rachel.

She stopped moving in the chair and turned completely towards Stacy, her eyes completely focused on her. Rachel's hands gripped the edge of the stool and she began to kick her feet back and forth as she waited for a response.

"No," answered Stacy. "I'm a lawyer."

"Oh," said Rachel, disappointed.

"Why do you ask?" asked Stacy, noting the disappointed look that had suddenly some across the little girl's face.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and glanced over at House before turning her attention back towards Stacy. "I was hoping you could fix his leg. Then maybe he wouldn't be so sad anymore."

Stacy's mouth hung slightly open, and she was grateful for the sudden reappearance of House and Cuddy.

"You're in my seat, kid," said House, limping over towards her.

She grinned up at him and twirled the stool around. "Finders keepers, losers weepers."

"Normally that would be true," said House, towering over her, "but you didn't find it. You _stole _it."

Cuddy shook her head and put her arms around Rachel. "Come on," she said, forcibly removing her from the stool, "let's go see what Amelia is doing."

"Fine," she said, her feet landing firmly on the ground. She took Cuddy's hand and then turned back, looking directly at Stacy. "Even though you can't fix House's leg, I think we should be friends."

House sighed and ran a hand through his head, and Cuddy took a deep breath; for what felt like the millionth time in the past forty-eight hours, she felt a lump forming in the back of her throat.

"I think so too," said Stacy, smiling at her.

Rachel smiled back, and then allowed herself to be dragged away by Cuddy. Once they were gone, Stacy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in.

She began to gather her papers together, and she looked over at House, who was still scratching the side of his head.

"Smart kid you got there," she said. House's eyes darted towards hers, and they narrowed in the slightest bit. "She's cute," said Stacy, shrugging her shoulders.

"She's not mine," he said, shrugging her off.

Stacy let out a slight laugh, and placed her things back into her briefcase. "I know you don't believe that," she whispered as she got up from her seat. She gripped her briefcase in her hand and continued, allowing him to get away with not responding. "I should go. I'll call tomorrow to let you know how my meeting goes."

Stacy paused for a moment, waiting for a response. When she didn't get one, she shook her head and began to walk away.

"Stacy," he said. He didn't turn around, and his voice was low and firm. She paused and turned her head towards him, watching as his hand fell to his leg. "Thank you," he said.

Stacy nodded—she wasn't going to patronize him with any version of 'you're welcome'.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said, deciding that was a good in-between. "Tell Cuddy," she started, and a small smile escaped her lips as she saw House's head turn slightly towards her at the mention of her name, "Tell Cuddy she's done a good job."

With that, she was gone. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she walked, and even though they didn't make quite the same sound as Cuddy's, the sound wasn't at all unfamiliar.

They both knew he wouldn't relay the compliment to Cuddy, but it was the thought that counted. Those seven words somehow made it seem like Stacy was okay with everything that she'd learned in the past two days.

And that was a good thing—for the both of them.

House was pulled from his trance as the feeling of Cuddy's hand brushing across his back registered with him. "Where did Stacy go?" she asked, taking the seat next to him.

"She left. Said she'd call tomorrow after she talked to the DA," he answered.

"Right," muttered Cuddy. For a moment, she'd forgotten what was going on. She folded her hands on the table and began to nervously tap her foot against the base of the stool.

"They leave?" he asked, his eyes darting to the other side of the bar.

"Yeah," she said. "Rachel wanted me to tell you bye for her. Then she asked when the lawyer who talked weird was coming back," she said, a smile forming on her lips.

House smirked, and his eyes fell to one of the paper football's that had been left on the bar. He picked it up, fumbling it between his fingers.

"Do you have to go back to work now?" he asked.

Cuddy saw the pained expression in his face, and then glanced at her watch. Her eyes then fell on the paper football that he was fiddling with, and she pushed her purse away from her.

"I think I have some time," she said softly.

"Good," said House, smiling at her, and playfully flicking the piece of paper in her direction.

* * *

Later that night, Cuddy softly knocked on Rachel's door as she entered. She found Rachel sitting on her carpet with her stuffed animals sprawled out in front of her—Lady had the seat next to her, of course.

"Hi Mommy," said Rachel, her eyes never looking up form her animals.

"Hi sweetie," she said. "What are you doing?"

"We're having coffee!" she answered excitedly. She picked up a pretend cup that she normally used for tea and showed it to her—Cuddy wasn't exactly sure why the beverage had switched, but she decided it was better to just go along with it.

"Coffee? I thought you hosted tea parties," she said.

Rachel shrugged. "House said tea is for wimps. He's more likely to play with me if we have coffee. Or scotch. But he told me not to tell you that, even though I don't know what that is."

Coddy scoffed and walked over to Rachel's bed. "I'm sure he did," she said, taking a seat. "Do you want to come sit down? I need to talk to you about something."

Rachel eyed her suspiciously, and Cuddy did her best to give her a comforting smile. She knew it didn't work when Rachel grabbed her ladybug pillow pet before scurrying towards her.

Rachel climbed up on the bed next to Cuddy and clutched Lady tightly against her chest. Cuddy took a deep breath—she had planned out what she was going to say to her, but now that she was here, nothing sounded right.

That's because it wasn't.

Nothing about this situation was right.

"Remember when we had to move away? And I told you House couldn't come because sometimes you have to be away from the people you love?"

Rachel nodded. "I remember," she said softly. "You said it doesn't mean you don't love them anymore, you just can't be with them right now."

"That's right," she said, her breath hitching in her voice. "Well, House has to go away for a little bit."

Rachel's face fell, and she dropped her pillow pet to the ground. "But where is he going?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Cuddy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, you know how when you break the rules, you have to go sit in time out?" Rachel nodded and furrowed her brow—she didn't understand where her mother was going with this. "It's kind of like that, but for grown ups."

"House has to go to jail?" she asked, registering what her mother was saying to her. "What did he do?"

"He lied about one of his patients, and then he tried to cover it up," she said, deciding that it was best to give Rachel as little information as possible. "But now he's ready to face the consequences, which means he has to go away for a little bit."

"How long is a little bit?" she asked.

Her bottom lip began to quiver, and Cuddy felt her heart drop at the sight. She pulled Rachel into her arms and leaned back against her pillows. Rachel curled up into her side, and Cuddy began to stroke her hair lovingly.

"They're not sure yet," she said.

"A week?" asked Rachel, her voice hopeful.

Cuddy closed her eyes and sighed. "No sweetie. Two years, maybe."

Rachel gasped and draped her arm across Cuddy's stomach. "That's a long time," she whispered. "Are you going to be okay, Mommy?"

Cuddy smiled at her. "I'm going to be just fine. I don't want you to worry about me, okay?"

Rachel nodded and scooted closer to her mother. "I'm going to miss him," she said.

"I'll miss him too," she said, and pressed a kiss to the top of Rachel's head.

"Mommy?" she asked, glancing up at Cuddy. "Tell him he's only allowed to go if he promises to come back," she said.

A lump began to form in the back of her throat, and Cuddy nodded, willing the tears not to fall. "I will," she said, lifting a hand to her eye and attempting to dry the tears.

"Mommy," said Rachel, letting Cuddy know she was about to ask a question. Cuddy nodded at her and dropped her hand from her face, giving Rachel her full attention. "Who is going to tell you they love you if House isn't here?"

Cuddy swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of her throat.

"Well I still have you, don't I?" she asked

Rachel nodded and buried her head into Cuddy's shoulder. Cuddy ran a hand up and down her back and pressed a kiss to the top of her head once more. "Then that's all that matters," she whispered.

* * *

It was unusually hot in Cuddy's bedroom. The covers had been discarded long ago, and the book that had been barely keeping House's interest was resting on top of his chest, and by now he was sure the pages were sticking to him.

Cuddy had been talking to Rachel for almost forty-five minutes, and he contemplated going to make sure everything was okay, but then decided against it. She said she could handle it, and she would.

She seemed to be handling a lot of things lately.

He peeled the book off of him and placed it on the nightstand, not caring that he had lost his place; it wasn't like he was going to have time to finish it.

God, it was hot—he thought he was going to suffocate.

House pulled his flimsy white t-shirt off and threw it across the room. He was down to his flannel pajama bottoms now.

He got up, and regretted it almost instantaneously; his leg screamed at him to sit back down, but it was just so damn _hot. _

A window. He needed to open a window.

He walked, or rather, limped over to the window. His fingers clasped around the wand that pulled up the blinds, and House groaned at the sight in front of him.

Cuddy and her incessant need to child proof the entire house. Rachel was five, if she didn't know not to climb out of windows at this point, then maybe it was time Natural Selection took over.

After fiddling with the lock for a minute, he finally got it open—he tried not to think about the fact that it had taken him far too long to open the window.

The chilling wind rushed into the room, and House sighed, relishing in the cool air. The moonlight strayed in as well, and as it danced across the windowsill, House was suddenly struck with a thought.

A thought that he couldn't have. A thought that he shouldn't have. A thought that he hated himself for having.

But a thought, nonetheless.

Run.

Get on his motorcycle and go. Start over. Find a new identity. Open up a bar of his own.

_It would be so easy. _

The sound of the door creaking open interrupted his thoughts, and he was glad for once, because the way the moonlight shined across her worn face, he knew running would be the hardest thing he'd ever do.

And he didn't like the sound of that.

House watched as she slipped out of her four-inch heels—he wasn't sure why she still had them on, but he didn't want to push. In all likelihood, the pain from her murderous shoes was incomparable to the pain she was felling inside.

"God, I'm exhausted," she said. Cuddy sunk down onto the bed and didn't bother to put her shoes in the proper place. That was his first clue. "What are you doing over there?" she asked

House paused before glancing out the window once more. "Nothing," he said. "Thought I heard something," he, said, lying through his teeth. But considering what he had been thinking earlier, the lie was much better than the truth.

Cuddy nodded and then stood up. House went to shut the window, but Cuddy quickly interjected. "Leave it open," she ordered. "It's kind of nice," she said, smiling at him.

He nodded and then walked away. She unzipped her skirt and shimmied out of it, and then moved on to her shirt. She undid the first few buttons of her plum colored silk shirt, and then pulled it over her head and let it fall to the ground in a heap next to her skirt.

Clue number two.

Then she climbed in bed, not bothering to change into any type of pajamas, deciding that her bra and underwear would suffice.

Clue number three.

She was lying on her stomach, her cheek pressed against the soft material of her pillow as she relished in the little comfort that it managed to bring her.

She sighed into the pillow; her hair sprawled over it unceremoniously as she let out several tired moans.

"Everything okay?" asked House, limping towards her. He knew it wasn't, and that it was stupid to even ask, but he thought she might appreciate the gesture.

"That's a loaded question," she answered, her face still buried in the pillow.

"You know how much I like those," he muttered, which caused her to let out a slight laugh. It was then that he noticed the redness in her eyes, and for about the seventh time that day, he realized she had been crying.

And he hated himself for it. Lisa Cuddy was not one for tears—and they both knew that.

"How'd Rachel take it?" he asked, knowing that was the reason for her tears.

He sat down next to her, his back leaning against the headboard. His hand began to rub up and down her back. She turned her head so that she was facing him, and moaned into his touch.

"Surprisingly well," she said.

His hand paused, and she sighed. "So what's with the tears?" he asked

"Why did you stop?" she asked, ignoring him.

"Answer the question," he said.

"I don't want to," she fired back. House rolled his eyes, and considered removing his hand from her completely, and then decided against it.

"Why not?" he asked, goading her.

Cuddy sighed and rolled her eyes before sitting up and propping herself up on her elbow.

"Because," she snapped, "if I start talking about it, there is about a ninety-five percent chance that I will start crying again, and in case you haven't noticed, I've been doing a lot of that today. So forgive me for not being so chatty."

"So what do you want to do?" he asked. His hand had slid down to her waist as a result of her abrupt movement, and she sat even further up, her hand inching toward his chest.

"I just don't want to cry anymore," she said.

His hand dropped to her lower back and his thumb rubbed her soft, exposed skin. Her hand travelled up to his chest and around his neck as she brought him down to her.

She gave him a pleading look, begging him not to ask her if she was sure, because in reality she wasn't. She wanted him of course, and he _always _wanted her, but there was something so final about it all—and that scared the hell out of her.

But then he pressed his lips to hers, and she moaned, and all of her thoughts simply vanished.

He pulled his lips away from hers and she slipped one leg underneath him, the other wrapping around him in the 'I need you now' sort of way. House buried his face in her shoulder and nipped at the skin on the base of her neck.

His tongue moved across her lavishly and she moaned, running her hands up and down his back. She sighed—he clearly wanted to take it a little slower than she did. That was better probably. Savor the moment.

Not that she could possibly forget any of this.

His lips were suddenly back on hers, and one of his hands moved to her lacy-clad breasts, and he touched every part that he could get his hands on. He rubbed, squeezed, and pulled at the material of her bra, desperate for the slightest hint of skin.

He smirked as he felt her nipples harden at his touch.

She opened her mouth slightly, allowing his tongue entrance. She flicked her tongue against his, distracting him while her hand moved to the clasp of her bra.

She was about to arch her back, when his hand found it's way to her hip, causing her to do it involuntarily. Sometimes it scared her with just how in sync they were.

Her clasp was undone, and House took the strap of her bra in his teeth, dragging one side down her shoulder. His teeth scraped against her skin, and her breath hitched.

She pressed her knuckles against his back as he began to move across her chest with his tongue.

"_Christ,"_ she said, wrapping her leg even tighter around him and shifting uncomfortably beneath him. Her hands tore at his hair as she pulled him closer to her.

"House is fine too," he said into her chest.

Cuddy was sure she glared at him, but whatever expression she had quickly changed as she felt his teeth take hold of the other strap of her bra. He began to slowly drag it down her shoulder, and Cuddy sighed before pulling it away from him.

"This is much faster," she said through gritted teeth as she slipped her arm out, letting the bra get lost within the sheets.

House eyed her suspiciously and her widened and slightly pleading eyes told him to stop thinking, so he let it go and pressed his lips gently against hers.

Her hands moved to the waistband of his pajamas and she shoved them off rather hurriedly as their lips crashed against each other. She pushed his arm towards her waist, urging him to mimic her actions. He obliged, and pushed her underwear off in a fluid motion.

"You know if I had to guess, I would say you were trying to move this along," he grunted.

"You'd be right," she said, kissing him again.

He pulled away from her and she groaned out in frustration. "Usually that would turn me on, but in this case…"

"_Damn it House_ _just get inside me_," she cried.

She didn't know if it was the exhaustion, or the guilt, or the small voice in the back of her head screaming 'this could be the last time, but for some reason, she couldn't bear the pain of drawing this out.

She didn't have time to contemplate.

She gasped as she felt him slip into her, and she kissed him again. She felt his heart beating against her chest, and his hands gripped her hair as he moved inside of her. His breaths began to quicken and she moaned as she hooked her ankle around his.

Cuddy bit down on her lip and arched her back, her breath hitching against his lips. Their lips pulled away from each other as air soon became a necessity, and House's head fell to her shoulder.

Their chests now pressed together, she could practically feel the beating of his heart against her chest; strangely, the rhythm didn't quite match her own.

And that's when she knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer.

He thrust once more into her, and Cuddy moaned, but she just couldn't get there. She knew it wasn't his fault; she was preoccupied, she wasn't focusing. And he was trying so hard, but there was too much pain, _too much guilt. _

She felt him come undone inside of her, and she winced as a defeated look came across his face. She tightened her legs around his waist, silently urging him on. His muscles tensed and then quickly relaxed, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in when she felt him slip out of her.

"Cuddy," he said, looking down on her, "You didn't—"

"I'm aware," she said, a slight edge to her voice that she hadn't intended to let out.

"That's never happened before."

Cuddy closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look him in the eye.

"Again," she said, "I'm aware."

House sighed and moved off of her. He felt like he was encroaching on her personal space. Her eyes were still closed, but they stung and burned and all around _ached_ as the thoughts whirled around in her head.

"And before you say anything, I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Why the hell not?" he asked

"I already told you," she snapped, and once she opened her eyes and caught the pained look on his face, she instantly regretted it. She sighed and sat up, her eyes meeting his eyes. "I don't want to cry anymore."

"Cuddy," he murmured, and his comforting tone almost ripped her heart in two. She took a deep breath and reached across him to turn off the light.

Darkness filled the room, and he caught her arm in his hand. "You're freezing," he said, noting the goosebumps that had formed on her arm.

"That's what happens when you open a window in the middle of February," she muttered. "I'm tired. Let's just go to sleep."

"Come here," he ordered.

"House—"

His hand was still wrapped around her arm, and she knew there was no way he was letting her go.

"I said come here."

She didn't need much convincing. The need and want that was evident in his simple plea was enough to make her fall apart completely.

She sighed and slipped underneath the covers, her head falling to his chest. The slow beating of his heart echoed through her ears, and his hand began to rub up and down her back soothingly.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she draped her arm across his middle.

"Don't stop," she whispered, trying to ignore the lump that was forming in the back of her throat.

They both knew her words were laced with double and triple meanings.

Nevertheless, he didn't stop until he heard the sound of her breathing evening out as she drifted off to sleep. But he couldn't ignore the single tear that had somehow escaped; he wiped it away with his thumb and pulled her closer to him.

He didn't let go of her a single time that night.

* * *

_A/N: Ouch. That hurt. _

_-Alison_


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Happy (belated) Halloween, everyone! I hope all who celebrated had a delicious and fun filled night. My halloween festivities are still happening, because apparently when Halloween falls on a Wednesday, college kids use that as an excuse to party the weekend before and after. Who knew? So here is my little treat for you all. This chapter is a little lighter than the last few have been, which is strange, considering we're getting very close to the end of this story. I'm talking two-three chapters at most, including the epilogue. Anyway, enough about that. _

* * *

The bed had been haphazardly made when she got up that morning.

Lisa Cuddy had woken approximately seven minutes before her alarm was scheduled to go off, and she'd let out a slight moan of annoyance as the glaring sunlight wakened her from her sleep.

House of course, didn't move a muscle.

She didn't remember when, but at some point in the night she'd put her matching bra and underwear back on before settling back into his arms—it had been a struggle to get out of his tight embrace in the first place.

They'd slept limb pressed to limb, his arms wrapped around her unusually small frame and her cheek pressed against his chest, their heavy breaths the only sound in the room.

Pillows, blankets, and sheets had been thrown across the bed, and there was something so familiar about the sight. It had reminded her of that first night—or day she supposed, that they had shared together.

Except this was infinitely different.

She'd shivered when she'd woken, and for the life of her she couldn't understand why that window was still open.

_It was just so damn cold. _

Cuddy freed one of her arms from House's grip and reached for one of the blankets that they had prematurely discarded the night before. They'd both been under the impression that they would spend the entire night having sex.

That clearly wasn't the case.

Cuddy sighed as she pulled the blanket over her scantily clad body. Her eyes drifted to House, who still had yet to stir. She smiled sadly at him and paused, her gaze lingering.

She had always loved to watch him sleep. He seemed so peaceful, so at ease. She knew that peaceful state would change the _second_ his eyes fluttered open. It was like the calm before the storm.

A crazy, unpredictable, all-consuming, yet completely irresistible storm that she couldn't help but dive straight into.

Her head fell back to his chest and she grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table, sighing as her unkempt hair sprawled out across his chest. She had four minutes until she had to get out of bed, she might as well make the most of it.

Closing her eyes was pointless. She'd barely gotten any sleep to begin with, and even in the light of day, she was still stressed beyond belief.

But she'd made her bed; it was time she slept in it.

Cuddy thumbed through emails and messages, ignoring most of them and skimming over the work-related ones. She cradled her phone in one hand, and the other fell to his chest. She drew lazy circles as his chest moved up and down in tandem with his steady breaths.

Four minutes eventually turned into ten, and ten eventually turned into twenty. She glanced at the clock and sighed at the hour; it was 7:30. She had about half an hour until Amelia would be there to take Rachel to school, forty-five minutes until she had to leave for work, and absolutely no motivation to get out of bed.

She cringed as the shrill ringing of her cell phone filled the air. She looked over at House—if he'd woken, he didn't make it known. She sighed as she climbed out of bed and grabbed her thin gray robe from the chair.

Cuddy slipped on the loose fitting robe, not bothering to tie it around her waist, and walked out of the room as quietly as possible. She shut the door and pressed the phone to her ear, sighing as she answered.

"Hello?"

"Lisa, it's Stacy." There was a tentativeness to her voice, and Cuddy closed her eyes as she heard Stacy pause on the other end. She clearly had news. "Is now a bad time?"

Cuddy sighed as she made her way to the kitchen. "Is there ever going to be a good time for this conversation?" she asked as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Probably not," said Stacy, and Cuddy let out a slight laugh. She wasn't sure what else she could do at this point.

Cuddy removed the coffee pot from its holder, and was suddenly overcome with immense gratitude over the fact that her coffee brewed automatically over night.

"How did the meeting go?" she asked as she poured a cup of coffee and brought the mug to her lips.

"Good," said Stacy, a little too confidently. Cuddy furrowed her brow and cradled the mug against her practically bare chest. The cold exterior of the mug sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn't remove it. She didn't know why, but she let it linger there until the steam warmed the entire cup.

"Good?" she asked, her voice full of suspicion.

"Well," began Stacy, searching for the words, "it went as well as I expected. I was able to get the sentence down to two years, and he can be released in 18 months for good behavior."

"What's the catch?" asked Cuddy as she took another sip of her coffee. "Stacy, your voice is an octave higher than it usually is. There is clearly something else going on."

Stacy sighed on the other end of the line. "They want him to report on Friday," she said.

Cuddy practically spit her coffee out. "That's in two days," she said.

"I know, but it was the best I could do. I'm already in Princeton, so there is no point in me driving back. I know it's sudden, but I think it would be best if you got here some time tomorrow."

Cuddy drew a sharp breath and nodded her head, momentarily forgetting that Stacy was on the phone. Tomorrow. They had to be there tomorrow. Which meant she had to leave tonight, and call Julia to see if Rachel could stay with her for the next few days. Julia. She had completely forgotten to call Julia. What was she going to say? Better yet, what was her _mother_ going to say? She could practically hear the "_I hate to say I told you so, but…."_ speech that she was undoubtedly going to receive.

"Lisa?" said Stacy, interrupting her thoughts. "Are you still there?"

"What?" said Cuddy, pulled from her trance. She shook her head and gathered herself before answering again. "I'll talk to House and let him know. Thanks Stacy," she said, almost too quickly.

"You're welcome," said Stacy, knowing that Cuddy was desperately trying to get off the phone. "I'll talk to you later," she said, and hung up the phone.

Cuddy ran a hand through her hair as she set her phone on the table. She glanced at the clock; it was 7:40.

As she trekked down to her sleeping daughter's room, she pulled her robe closer around her and decided that work was completely out of the question today.

* * *

"If you keep fiddling with that headband I'm going to make you take it off," said Cuddy, taking a much needed sip of her coffee and peering her eyes over the newspaper that she had been reading.

Rachel Cuddy sighed, and then looked up, giving her mother a _how did you know I was doing that _look. She removed her hands from the jeweled headband and turned her attention back to her half eaten bowl of cheerios.

"Mommy, where's House?" she asked through a mouthful of the now soggy cereal.

Cuddy set the newspaper down and looked at Rachel, who was twirling her spoon around the bowl. "He's sleeping sweetie," she said.

"When does he have to go?" she asked. She didn't look up, but Cuddy could hear the cracking of her small voice as she spoke.

"Soon," she answered, and Rachel sighed as she pushed her bowl in front of her.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she muttered. Rachel looked up at her, and Cuddy could see the little girl fighting back tears. "Will you fix my headband?" she asked sheepishly.

Cuddy smiled, knowing Rachel was just looking for an excuse to climb into her lap. "Sure, come here," she said, motioning to her lap.

Rachel hopped down from her chair and climbed into Cuddy's arms. Cuddy gathered Rachel's hair into her hands, gently stroking it as she tried to provide her daughter with a little comfort.

"Will I get to say bye to him?" she asked. There was still a hint of sadness to her voice, and Cuddy swallowed, willing herself not to cry over her daughter's evident pain.

"Of course you will. What makes you think you won't?" Cuddy placed the headband in the center of Rachel's head, tucking the appropriate pieced behind it.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said. "Last time we left without saying goodbye."

Cuddy's breath hitched, and she wrapped her arms around Rachel and covering her hands with her own. She pressed a kiss to her temple and said, "I promise you will get to say goodbye."

Rachel sighed, and wiggled around to face Cuddy. "And you promise he's coming back?"

Cuddy nodded, "I promise he's coming back."

"Pinkie swear?" Rachel extended her pinkie, and Cuddy let out a slight laugh before wrapping her own pinkie around Rachel's.

"Swear," she said, tugging at her pinkie. Rachel giggled and let go of Cuddy's hand. "Why don't you go get your backpack? Amelia will be here soon."

Rachel nodded and hopped down from Cuddy's lap. As if on cue, she heard the sound of Amelia walking into the door.

Cuddy got up and headed towards the coffee maker; Amelia was on time, which meant she didn't make her usual Starbucks run. She poured her a cup and barely flinched when Amelia made her presence known.

"Is that what all the kids are wearing to school these days?" she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Cuddy turned and wrapped her robe tighter around her body, her cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. "It's been a weird morning," she said.

"Well don't cover up on my account," said Amelia. Cuddy handed her the cup of coffee, which she gladly took. "Are you going into work late today?"

Cuddy took a sip of her coffee and swallowed hard before answering. "I'm taking the day off," she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Amelia eyed her suspiciously and set her coffee on the table, opting to fold her arms across her chest instead. "Should I get my zombie apocalypse kit ready, or are you suffering from some type brain aneurism?"

"Very funny," said Cuddy, giving her a pointed glare. Cuddy paused and lifted an unsteady hand to her temple, rubbing it slightly as she prepared to say the words that were forming in her mind. "I got a call from Stacy this morning. They want him to report on Friday to serve out his sentence."

Amelia sighed and sent her an apologetic look. "So your world is kind of ending," she said.

"You could say that," answered Cuddy. "But it's fine. He'll be gone 18 months, two years at most."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself that everything is peachy-keen over here?"

Cuddy sighed. "Does it matter?" she asked.

"I guess not," said Amelia, shrugging her shoulders. "Do you need me to stay with Rachel while you're gone?"

"No," said Cuddy, shaking her head. "I'm going to have her stay with Julia. It's not far from where we'll be."

"Okay, if you're sure." They both knew Cuddy was trying to keep her family—if you could call it that—intact for as long as possible. "Lisa," said Amelia, her voice softening, "I'm sorry."

Cuddy sighed and gave her friend an appreciative smile. "God I am so sick of that word," she said, followed by a slight laugh. Amelia eyed her suspiciously, and Cuddy quickly backtracked. "I'm just sick of feeling sorry for myself, and for him, and if I keep talking about how hard it's going to be I think I might actually have an emotional breakdown."

"I can make sex jokes instead, if that will help?" Amelia offered, a wicked grin on her face. "Judging by your attire and the disheveled state of your normally perfectly tamed hair, I'd say you two had an interesting night."

Amelia took a sip of her coffee, smirking devilishly over the rim of the mug.

"Interesting is definitely the word I would use," muttered Cuddy. She glanced over to the direction of Rachel's bedroom, making sure that she wasn't lurking around any corners before she continued.

"He couldn't—" asked Amelia, setting her cup down and hinting at Cuddy that she should be the one to continue so Amelia didn't have to actually utter the words.

Cuddy sighed, preparing herself for the conversation. She usually wasn't one to share the intimate details of her personal life, but somehow, Amelia had become her resident go-to person for all of her _I can't believe this happened _situations. And somewhere along the line, Cuddy had become her person as well.

"He was fine," said Cuddy, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. "I was the one who couldn't—and that's never happened before. Ever."

"Never?" asked Amelia, suddenly insanely jealous of her friend.

Cuddy shook her head. "Well, not with House at least."

"Guilt can be a powerful thing," said Amelia. "You want my advice?"

"Am I going to get it anyway?" asked Cuddy as she raised an elegant eyebrow.

Amelia shrugged. "Oh of course." Cuddy extended her hand in a _go ahead_ motion, and leaned back in her chair, bracing herself for what Amelia possibly had to say. "I'm taking Rachel to school, and then me and Joey will probably take her somewhere fun yet surprisingly educational until it's time to come home. That gives you approximately six hours here alone, with House. I suggest you use that time to have as much sex as humanly possible."

Cuddy's eyes widened and she brought her mug to her lips, taking a sip as she tried to hide the flushed state her cheeks were undoubtedly in. She twirled a lock of hair around her delicate finger, and paused contemplating what Amelia had said.

Her eyes flicked to the direction of her bedroom, and a smile formed on her lips as she realized maybe that was exactly what they needed.

* * *

House woke to the sunlight glaring through the sorry excuse that Cuddy had for curtains; he assumed that she'd chosen the thin, opaque material that practically _invited _the sunlight to come into the room so she wouldn't oversleep, or waste a precious moment of her day—not that he dared to ask, and even if he had, he knew she'd only deny the accusation.

But she couldn't lie to him; no matter how hard she may try.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he glanced over at the clock; it was about half past eight, which meant Amelia had come and gone, and Cuddy should have left for work already. But then he noticed that her laptop was sitting on the table across the room, and her briefcase was perched next to the door.

Maybe she hadn't left yet. But that wouldn't explain why she wasn't running around the room in a frenzy, stressed out beyond belief over the fact that she was running approximately twenty-seven minutes late.

Unless—

No. She wouldn't be avoiding him, would she? What happened last night happens to all couples, right?

Wrong.

First of all, they weren't _all _couples. Second of all, it wasn't for lack of trying, or performance, per se, it was all of that pent up guilt she kept bottled inside her pretty little head that made it impossible for her to focus. Logically speaking, it was her own damn fault.

Wrong again.

House sighed as he got out of bed and slipped on the flannel pajama bottoms that had been discarded the night before. A slight shiver went through his body, and he paused, glancing over to the window. Why was that still open, anyways?

He decided to ignore it.

Instead, he walked out of the room and into the kitchen, where he found Cuddy, who most certainly _wasn't _avoiding him.

She was leaning against the counter, elbows perched, hip cocked out to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder as she scribbled on tiny slips of paper. Now normally, this wouldn't be all that unfamiliar—Cuddy loved nothing more than to slouch provocatively and give off the impression that she was just _oh so innocent. _

But there was nothing innocent about this.

Her gray robe was draped across one of the kitchen chairs, and Cuddy was standing there, her back to him, in quite possibly the smallest pair of underwear—if you could even call it that—he had ever seen. She had on a matching bra, but even from where he stood, he could tell that the black lace material was sheer.

He shuttered a breath as the sunlight peered through the window and danced across her chest, exposing a glimpse of her nipple for the briefest of moments.

"Enjoying the view?" asked Cuddy, her voice flat as she continued to scribble on the pieces of paper, that House, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what were for. Not that he cared, really.

"Oh was this for my benefit?" he asked, goading her.

"Do you see anyone else here?" she fired back.

Cuddy gathered up the pieces of paper and stood straight up, much to House's dismay. She heard him sigh and she smirked, turning her head towards him and giving him a wicked grin.

"Oh good," she said, her eyes looking him up and down. "You didn't get dressed."

"Apparently neither did you," he said. Cuddy shrugged and walked over to the kitchen table, where she began to meticulously place the slips of paper into a bowl.

House followed her, wrapping his arms around her the minute he was able. His hands settled on her waist as his thumbs pressed against the bare skin that lay just above her hipbone.

She gasped at his touch and shifted her eyes towards his as she heard him whisper into her ear.

"What are you doing?" he said huskily into her ear.

Cuddy let her hand reach up towards his neck, stroking his stubble with the back of her knuckles.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she whispered, her lips parted slightly and her voice charged with sexual tension.

He was going to respond, but he suddenly was at a loss for words. At this point, he was sure all the blood that ran through his body had begun to travel down south. And from what he could tell, she knew that, too.

Cuddy whipped around in his arms, letting the other arm wrap around his neck. His hands wandered down to her barely covered ass, and he gently, but not without force, cupped her and pushed her back towards the kitchen table.

"I have to tell you something," she said. She pressed her lips to his and gave him a light kiss, pulling back almost instantaneously.

"Can it wait?" he groaned. His hands collided with the edge of the table, and he slightly winced, but then caught sight of her already hardened nipples and decided that the pain was most _definitely _worth it.

He hoisted her onto the table and she giggled as she lazily wrapped her legs around his waist. "It's kind of time sensitive," she said, slightly pouting as she ran her hands down his bare chest.

"Well there are parts of me that are feeling pretty sensitive right about now, so if you could get on with it—"

He was cut off by the feeling of her lips against his, and he ran his hand up her thigh as she wrapped her legs tighter around him. She parted her lips slightly and then gently bit down on his bottom lip before pulling away.

She pressed her forehead against his, and their eyes locked. It would be wrong not to tell him, right? Right. Now was the right time. The sex would take his mind off of it.

One hand moved to his cheek, and she dragged her delicate fingers against his stubble, the contrast of her smooth skin against his rough features sending shivers down her spine. "The DA wants you to report on Friday morning," she said.

She didn't give him time to respond. Hell, she barely gave him time to _process _the information before her lips were back on his.

He was stunned at first; that much she could tell. But then she slid her tongue inside of his mouth, and she felt his hands pinch her skin as he pulled her closer to him. She collided into him, her breasts pressed against his chest as their lips crashed together.

"That's the bad news," she said, pulling back. His lips went to her neck and his hand to her breast, and Cuddy threw her head back as he nipped and caressed her skin.

"There's good news?" he murmured into her.

"Oh absolutely," she answered, her voice full of confidence. House paused and lifted his head from the base of her neck.

There was something different about her, but he couldn't quite place it. Something had changed between the time they went to bed last night and then time she'd woken up this morning.

Because _this_ was certainly the last thing he expected to wake up to.

But then he caught a glimpse of playfulness in her eyes and he smirked. She wasn't sad, which meant she wasn't thinking about what was to come—she was thinking about something else entirely.

Which could only mean one thing: she was up to something.

"We," she began, tugging at the waistband of his pajamas and pulling him closer, "have approximately six hours of alone time."

"I like where this is going," he answered hoarsely.

"I thought you might," she whispered seductively.

Cuddy loosened the grip that she had on his waist, and turned her body, arching her back slightly—she could have sworn she saw House's mouth water as she moved in front of him. She picked up the bowl that she had strategically placed on the table earlier, and shoved it between her body and his, letting it fall to the space between her thighs.

She squeezed her muscles, holding the bowl in place with her perfectly toned legs.

House sighed at the sudden distance between them. But then he heard the sound of her throaty, so seductive it couldn't possibly be real whisper, and immediately took his opposition back.

"I've come up with a little game for us." She shifted so that her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and he swore she purposefully squeezed her elbows in so that her breasts were slightly pushed together.

He was right.

"You like games, don't you?" she whispered.

"Depends on the game," he answered—a lie he both knew neither one of them believed.

Cuddy smirked and took one of his hands in hers. "You'll like this one," she offered. She guided his hand towards her, and for a moment he thought she was going to shove his hand down the front of her underwear.

He was slightly disappointed when his fingers were met with the dry slips of paper instead of her warm, undoubtedly wet center.

"Pick one," she ordered, her eyes shifting towards the bowl that his hand now occupied. "I've written down several spots that I've deemed suitable, but not _so_ suitable that they're boring."

"Spots for what, exactly?"

"House," she said sweetly, wrapping her hands around his neck and pressing her lips to his in a painfully teasing kiss. "We have six hours until we have to leave, what else would we possibly be doing?"

House smirked and looped an arm around her back. "Any chance the kitchen table is in your little bowl of tricks?" he asked

Cuddy nodded and shot him a devilish grin. Her lips were slightly parted, practically begging him to take her right then and there. "Screw it," he said, taking the plastic bowl from her thighs and letting it fall to the ground. "We're starting here."

He kissed her with so much force and passion that she thought her heart might actually explode. Their lips tugged and tore at each other while his hand ran over every single inch of her seemingly never-ending body. He started at the base of her neck and travelled down, pausing at her breasts.

She arched her back and moaned like she'd never moaned before when she felt his hand slip under her bra and graze across her nipple. His thumb paused on the most sensitive of areas, circling her breast as she gripped onto his shoulder for support.

"Oh my _god_," she said, reluctantly pulling her lips away from his.

"God you feel good," he murmured into her skin in a whisper that was just loud enough for her to hear.

His hand trickled down from her breast to her stomach, the other running up her thigh. He looped his fingers underneath the lacy material of her underwear and slowly dragged it down her thighs.

House threw the garment across the room, not caring where it went—just that it was off and out of the way. Cuddy's legs parted almost instantaneously, and House teasingly ran his hands up her thigh.

He took her surprise and caught his lips in hers. The kiss was gentle and slow, and she smiled into him as her fingers ran through the hairs at the base of his neck. Her breath hitched as he suddenly lifted one leg over his shoulder and plunged his two forefingers into her.

"_Son of a bitch,"_ she murmured, her head falling to his shoulder.

House smirked as she arched her back and bucked her hips, craving the feeling of him against her. "Never underestimate the element of surprise," he said rhetorically—which was god, considering Cuddy had lost the inability to put words into sentences.

She pressed her heel against his back, her muscles tightening as he teasingly moved in and out of her. He pressed his palm up against her, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive her crazy but not quite enough to send her over the edge.

In a surprising yet not unwanted turn of events, Cuddy managed to push down the sides of his pajama pants with her toes. House quickened the rhythm of his fingers and pulled her closer. He held her steady with his thumb, and she released moans of pleasure, not bothering to try and string words together.

"Oh my…_fuck" _she said. He knew she was close, and that's when it happened—he stopped abruptly, removing his fingers from her. He let his palm linger as he applied slight pressure to her clit.

Cuddy lifted her head from his shoulder, shooting daggers at him. She was met with that idiotic self-indulgent grin that she tried so hard to hate but almost _never _could. He smirked, and she knew he was proud of himself for getting her so goddamn worked up—and before she could even register that it was gone, his hand was removed from her completely.

"Don't look so satisfied," she growled through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated.

Retaliate. She needed to retaliate.

"You're the one who was wearing a look of satisfaction, Cuddy," he said, smirking at her.

A wicked grin formed on her face, and she tightened her leg around his waist, letting the other fall from his shoulder, distracting him with her lavish movements. One hand slowly inched up his chest, and she paused, saying:

"I was getting there," she pouted, her lips partly slighted and seductive-like.

Her other hand had somehow made it's way to him. She wrapped her delicate hand around his fully erect length, and he gasped, the sudden contact taking him by surprise.

"How does it feel?" she asks, tightening her grip on him and running a finger down to the tip, "the element of surprise, that is."

"You think you have the upper hand," he said through shuttered and shallow breaths.

Cuddy tightened her legs around him, pulling him closer as she continued to stroke him up and down. "I _do_ have the upper hand," she said.

But then his lips attacked hers, and she moaned into him, momentarily forgetting the task at hand. Hand, being the operative word. Before she could stop him, his hand was covering the one that was covering _him_, and he parted her legs with an appropriate amount of force.

He guided himself into her, and she gasped, throwing her head back as she released audible moans of pleasure. Her muscles tensed and she arched her back as he thrust in and out of her.

Sweat trickled down the both of their brows, and his hands fell to her breasts as their lips continued to crash together. But then he pulled away, and he caught a look in her eyes that was all too familiar to him. She let out a slight whimper, and he felt his muscles begin to throb and constrict, and if they weren't both close before, they definitely were now.

"House…" she muttered, almost pleading with him as her head fell to his shoulder.

He smirked, and gave her one last, long, drawn-out thrust, and felt, no heard—hell, he didn't know what was going on, but they both exploded, and the room was filled with orgasmic noises as their bodies shook.

_Upper hand my ass._

* * *

"Well that was anything but _boring_," said House.

Cuddy smirked and threw her head back in laughter, her throaty yet incredibly sexy laugh filling the room. They'd completed their marathon of sexcapades—at this point it was hard to find a spot in her home where they _hadn't _had sex.

Practically five hours later, several orgasms, and a shower—which they of course, took together—the pair had ended up right back where they had started. Their backs were pressed up against the refrigerator, and there were empty cartons of food strewn out in front of them.

Sustenance was a requirement, after all.

Cuddy popped a blueberry into her mouth and turned her head towards his, "I aim to please," she said, the juice from the berry lingering on her lips.

"Well congratulations," said House, lifting his thumb to her lips and wiping away the blue extract that had laid there, "you've surpassed even my expectations. And you know what a hard ass I can be."

"Hard is definitely a word I would use," she murmured, her eyes flicking towards him.

She smirked, and his hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss.

She pulled away after a moment and lovingly placed a hand on his chest, stopping him before they both got to a place where they couldn't stop—again.

"We should probably get dressed," she whispered.

House sighed, shaking his head at her as he pulled away. "Always the killjoy," he joked.

"No, " said Cuddy, laughing as her head fell to her shoulder, "I'm just not too keen on explaining to my five-year old daughter why Mommy and Daddy are half naked on the kitchen floor."

There was a silence in the room that seemed almost lethal, and Cuddy's eyes widened as House for once, seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice frazzled. "I didn't mean…"

"It's okay," said House, shrugging it off. "I know what you meant."

Cuddy sighed, knowing that he was trying to gloss over the issue. "No, it's not. I don't want you to feel like you're responsible for her, or that I expect certain things from you."

"But you do expect certain things from me," said House, turning his head towards her. Cuddy furrowed her brow, her mouth hanging slightly open in protest. "It's not a bad thing, it's just a fact."

"We've never really talked about it before," she said.

"I know," said House. "But I wouldn't be going back to jail in two days if this were just some meaningless fling," he said in a whisper that was so soft she almost didn't hear it. "I wouldn't be going at all if I didn't have something to come back to."

Cuddy inched closer to him and pressed her lips sweetly against his. Her lips lingered on his for a moment or two longer than they normally would, and she smiled against him as she felt his running over her left hand.

"But just so you know," said House as he pulled away, "I give you permission to treat my body like a meaningless fling for the next 48 hours."

Cuddy smirked and smacked him playfully on the arm before standing up. She extended her hand to House, helping him up from the ground.

"Amelia and Rachel will be back soon," she said, a sad smile suddenly forming on her face. "I should probably get a bag together. Want to help me?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

She knew it was a mundane task that he usually would have refuted, but she also knew that neither one of them wanted to be away from the other, even if it was only for a second.

"Sure," said House, giving in. "But as long as I get to pick out your clothes."

"I need more than bras and underwear, House."

She shot him a grin and sauntered off towards the bedroom.

"Are you sure you even need those? Because you being naked the whole time works for me too!"

* * *

House and Cuddy sat on the floor of her seemingly endless walk-in-closet. He had a duffel bag perched in his lap, and he held it open as Cuddy threw things in.

"Who needs this many pair of shoes?" he asked, his eyes wandering over to the wall that was shelved entirely with shoes—most of which were some altered version of a black, impossibly high heeled, stiletto.

"I do," she said, handing him a pair of jeans that he placed in the bag.

"Where did you even get all of them?" he asked, clearly interested in her apparent shoe-fetish.

"I bought them," she said. "Why are you so interested in my shoes?"

House shrugged. "Just making conversation."

Cuddy eyed him suspiciously. "You have my entire underwear collection memorized, and you want to talk about my shoes?"

"Who told you that?" he asked, angry that one of the approximately seven things Cuddy didn't already know about him had gotten out—the other six mostly had to do with hookers or embarrassing childhood stories—he didn't think she needed to know about that.

"You did," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice, " by bragging about it to just about every member on your team. Taub let it slip once when he was looking for leverage."

"Did he get it?" asked House

"Absolutely not," she answered.

House laughed, and Cuddy sighed, looking around her closet. "I think that's everything," she said.

"You sure?" asked House—he clearly wasn't ready for the day to end either.

"Unless you want to try and fit all of my shoes in that bag," she joked.

"You know how much I like a challenge," he fired back.

Cuddy smiled, and he handed her the bag while he stood up. Cuddy followed suit, and they paused as they heard the sound of the door opening. Even from inside the closet, they could hear Rachel's incessant chatter filling the halls.

"I guess this is it," said House softly.

"Yeah," murmured Cuddy. "I guess so."

She took his hand and gently squeezed as they walked out of the room and into the kitchen.

* * *

"I think Bill Clinton was my favorite," said Rachel as she threw her backpack on the table and took a seat in the chair.

Amelia placed a sliced apple in front of her. "You think so?" she asked

"Yep," said Rachel, taking a small bite of the sliced fruit. "He had a really cute cat and he played the saxophone. And I like both of those things."

Amelia and Joey had taken Rachel to the museum of American History for what felt like the millionth time—in reality it wasn't only the third—and Rachel had spent over an hour trying to decide which President was her favorite based on the display of pictures.

House and Cuddy appeared from around the corner, and Rachel's eyes lit up as she saw them.

"Monica liked his saxophone too, if you catch my drift," said House to no one in particular.

Cuddy shot him a glare, and Amelia did her best to hide the smirk that was forming on her face.

"What's so funny?" asked Rachel as she scrunched up her face in confusion.

"No idea," said House, taking an apple slice from her plate and popping it into his mouth.

"That's mine," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well now it's in _my_ stomach," he said. He picked the plate up and began to walk away.

Cuddy was about to protest, but then she saw House motion for Rachel to follow him, and if she hadn't seen what was happening with her own two eyes, she's not sure she would have believed it.

"Come with me, me heartie," he said. " Brownbeard could use yer help with ye ship."

Rachel beamed up at him and hopped off her chair as quickly as her little legs would allow, and she practically sprinted so she could catch up to him. Cuddy smiled when she took House's hand, and instead of letting out his usual groan or murmur of annoyance, he cupped her hand underneath his.

They disappeared down the hall, and Cuddy turned towards Amelia, who seemed to be wiping a tear away from her eye.

"Are you _crying?" _asked Cuddy, half of her amused and the other half touched.

"No," said Amelia defensively, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "It was just cute, that's all. Did you take my advice?" she asked, changing the subject.

Cuddy simply glared at her before darting her eyes towards the floor.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," she said, almost _too _triumphantly. "What do you think he's doing back there, anyway?"

Cuddy dropped her shoulder and turned her head towards Amelia, a sad smile on her face. It had been a good day. The threat of tears didn't pop up once—until now.

"He's saying goodbye to her," she whispered.

* * *

"Did pirates eat apples?" asked Rachel as she popped another slice into her mouth.

"Pirates ate everything," said House, mimicking her actions. "Including other pirates," he joked.

They were sitting in the middle of her room, the plate settled between them. House's legs were sprawled out in front of him, and Rachel was sitting cross-legged.

"Will there be pirates where you're going?" she asked, looking down at the floor as he voice suddenly lowering in volume—and excitement, for that matter.

House sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Nope," he said. "You and I are the only pirates left on this sorry excuse for a world."

He decided a playful lie was the right way to go.

Rachel giggled and smiled triumphantly; she was clearly impressed by the fact that there were only two pirates in the world, and _she _was one of them.

"Mommy promised you were going to come back," she stated. She shifted her gaze towards him, her eyes full of questions with a hint of sadness. "Is that true?"

"Has your mom ever lied to you before?"

Rachel cocked her head to the left, contemplating. "Nope," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Then why would she be lying now?" House placed another apple slice into his mouth, and Rachel shrugged once more, her eyes still glued to the floor. "I won't be gone for long," he said.

"Anything longer than a week is a long time," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're five," he answered. "Your sense of time is based on how long of a nap you take and the next time you're getting goldfish."

"I wish you didn't have to go," she whispered.

"Me too kid," he said.

Rachel moved the plate out of the way and crawled over to where House was sitting. He didn't stop her when she crawled into his lap and settled her head against his chest.

"I'll miss you, ye Blood Scallywag," she said.

* * *

_A/N: I'm a sucker for a little House/Rachel Pirate talk. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Leave a review and let me know what you think!_


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: First of all, let me just apologize for the delay in update. I've been suffering from some type of sinus cold/headache since Tuesday, and I just haven't had it in me to write. Also, getting a cold in college is really inconvenient. Do you have any idea how hard it is to force yourself to get out of bed and wander out into the 30 degree weather when you're already sick? Because I do-and it's not easy. _

_Second of all, it's anonymously been brought to my attention that perhaps I'm a little to err...open, about my weekend activities at school. Let me just say that drinking is definitely not the only thing I do at school. I take a full course load, keep a 3.9 GPA, and play field hockey five times a week. I also find time to write this. So I'm sorry if I've offended any of my younger readers, please know that that was not my intention-I just didn't think any of you wanted to hear about how French kicks my ass three times a week, or how I can never decide if I hate or love my English Professor :D_

_Third of all, it's 3 AM here and I wrote a majority of this chapter tonight. So forgive me if there are errors. Read away!_

* * *

Eyes slightly puffy and mind most _definitely_ preoccupied, Cuddy sat in the passenger seat of her Lexus SUV, her head resting against the window as the car barreled down the unusually empty highway. She had been planning to drive in the hopes that it would take her mind off of things, but the minute she wrapped her hands around the steering wheel they'd begun to shake uncontrollably. She didn't know if it was because of the nerves, or the fear, or the slight tinge of regret that had formed in the pit of her stomach.

In reality, it was probably a culmination of those things.

House had grabbed hold of her elbow, jerking her towards him softly as he said:

"Give me the keys, Cuddy."

She'd wanted to protest, she'd wanted to tell him that she was perfectly capable of operating her own vehicle, she'd wanted to tell him that she was going to be _fine _without him.

But the words didn't come.

She'd given him one of the saddest smiles he'd ever seen as she dropped the keys into his hands, unknowingly simultaneously breaking his heart with those sad, _please don't leave me, _eyes.

It started to get better once House began to drive. Rachel, who was thoroughly entertained by the idea of a long car ride and completely oblivious to where exactly they were headed, had been entertaining them with jokes and stories from school.

She'd told them about the class bunny named Pancakes, and how she slipped him her extra carrot sticks when her teacher wasn't looking. This of course, enraged Cuddy, but House seemed to be amused, and Cuddy didn't dare disrupt that.

Rachel told them about the boy who pulled her hair on the playground, and how she didn't like it but she didn't think the boy was being mean, she thinks he was just being a boy—and boys were gross for the most part, but maybe this boy wasn't _too_ bad.

Then she'd asked about Amelia, which led her to ask about Joey, and how come he had so many tattoos? And why didn't House have any tattoos?

But then she'd fallen asleep.

And suddenly House and Cuddy were left with just their thoughts to keep them company.

It was nearing 11 on Thursday morning, and they were about an hour away from Julia's house, where Rachel would be spending the night and most of the next day.

In roughly twenty-four hours, House would be back in jail.

Cuddy sighed and reached over to turn up the heat in the car, shivering as the chill air—or cold tension, perhaps—began to register with her brain.

"It's freezing," muttered Cuddy. House's eyes shifted over to her as she reached down to the floor of the car and grabbed one of the sweatshirts that she was constantly nagging him to bring inside the house.

"See," said House, his eyes now focused on her, "I leave my clothes in your car because I preemptively anticipate the fact that you're going to be cold. If you really think about it, I'm doing you a favor by being a grade a slob."

Cuddy shook her head and stuck her arms through the sleeves, not bothering to pull it over her head.

"Or," she began, a slight smirk on her face as she turned her head towards him, "you'll use any and every excuse to not listen to what I say."

House turned his eyes back towards the road. "That doesn't sound like me at all," he joked.

Cuddy scoffed and readjusted herself in the seat as she tried to make the sweatshirt cover as much of her shivering body as possible. She rested her head back against the window, her hair hiding her face from him.

House began to tisk at her in annoyingly adorable patronizing way, and paused before saying:

"You're going to miss me when I'm gone"

Cuddy jerked her head up immediately, a look of complete and utter disapproval on her face.

She raised an eyebrow—a single one for that matter—and cocked her head slightly to the left as she stared him down. She opened her mouth, eyes flaring as the threatening words began to form on the tip of her tongue. But then she saw a slight flicker in his eyes, and her eyes suddenly softened, and her eyebrow returned to its normal position.

"Shut up and drive, House."

About an hour later, they had arrived to Julia's house. Rachel had woken happily at the thought of playing with her cousins and eating Fruit Loops for the next two days, but when they'd finally reached their destination she'd pieced the puzzle together—this was the last time she would be seeing House for a while.

Cuddy had grabbed Rachel's things from the trunk of the car, and when she reached for her daughter's hand, she was quickly rebuffed.

Rachel hugged Lady close to her chest with one hand and ran off towards House, who was awkwardly lingering near the steps to Julia's front door. When she reached him, she took her hand in his.

For once, he didn't sigh out in opposition.

House looked over at Cuddy, who seemed unusually touched by the small gesture. Seeing the small lump forming in her throat, House quickly cleared his throat, looking down at Rachel.

"I always knew you liked me better," he whispered, loud enough so that Cuddy could hear, but soft enough so that Rachel was under the impression that it was their little secret.

Rachel giggled and gripped his hand tighter as Cuddy pushed past them and rang the doorbell, tapping her foot nervously as she waited for Julia to answer the door.

"How pissed is she?" asked House. Cuddy sent him a glaring look, and House shrugged. "Just trying to prepare myself for the storm that is Hurricane Julia."

"I have no idea," she muttered. "She wasn't exactly cheery on the phone, if that's what you're asking."

"Right," said House, nodding his head. "I forgot that passive aggressiveness is hereditary."

Rachel tugged on House hand and furrowed her brow, "What's passive aggressive mean?" she asked

"Look it up in the dictionary," said House. "There will be a picture of your grandmother next to the word."

"House," hissed Cuddy, turning her head towards him.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard her mutter "There's nothing passive about my mother" under her breath.

He smirked.

The door began to jiggle, and Cuddy immediately straightened. Julia opened the door with an unusual smile on her face, her long wavy hair pulled up in a loose ponytail that seemed to follow wherever her head went.

"You're here," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"No traffic, " said House.

Julia scoffed. "You let him drive?"

There was the Julia he knew and…loathed.

Cuddy glared at her sister, and House winced at the not so subtle dig. "That's one," he muttered.

"Can we come in?" asked Cuddy, pushing past her sister and ignoring House's remarks.

House and Rachel followed, and Julia gave House a strange look when she noticed that he had a tight grip on her niece's hand.

"We're a package deal these days," said House semi-condescendingly and giving a shrug of his shoulders. Julia nodded at him skeptically, her eyes shifting up and down, causing Rachel to giggle.

The little girl's laughter pulled House and Julia out of their warring trance, and Cuddy cleared her throat.

"Are you two done?" she asked. "Or should I prepare myself to be in this for the long haul?"

Julia quickly averted her eyes and moved them towards Cuddy, who had made her way into the living room.

Rachel hugged her pillow pet even tighter and dropped House's hand, scurrying over to where Cuddy was sitting.

House sighed as Rachel left—his buffer had let him down. Julia gave him one more glare, and then walked towards the living room. House followed suit, although at a much more slow and reluctant pace.

"Matthew took the kids to the store, but they should be back soon. You can wait if you want," said Julia

Cuddy looked over at Rachel, who had buried her face into her pillow pet. She was clearly upset over the idea of House and Cuddy leaving.

"We probably shouldn't stay long," said Cuddy. She saw Rachel hug Lady even _tighter_, and her heart almost shattered into pieces.

"Right," said Julia. Cuddy had told her everything about House, and how he had ended up at her house all of those months ago, but she was still having trouble adjusting to the idea. "Why don't you and Rachel go see the guest room? I've redone it since the last time she was here."

Cuddy raised an elegant eyebrow, eyeing Julia suspiciously. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Leaving House alone with Julia was the _last _thing she intended on happening—truth be told, she almost told him to stay in the car.

Julia rolled her eyes. "Go," she said.

Cuddy sighed and got up from the couch, motioning for Rachel to follow her. Rachel hopped off of the couch and skipped out of the living room, pausing to fist bump House before she left—after all, fist bumps were much cooler than high-fives.

Cuddy paused at him as well, placing her hand on his forearm. "Behave," she muttered.

"When do I not?" he asked playfully.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him, which he dismissed. He shifted his eyes in the direction where Rachel went, and Cuddy sighed before tapping her fingers lightly against him as she left.

Once she was gone and out of earshot, House turned towards Julia, who taken a seat on the couch. House flopped down into the chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Should I be worried you're going to slap me again? Because the whole crippled thing makes it hard to run away."

"You seem to be pretty good at that," she answered slyly.

House sneered at her.

"Regardless," said Julia, a sigh accompanying her words, "I think you're being punished enough."

"I knew you'd warm up to me eventually," he said, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward slightly. "All Cuddy's do."

"Must be faulty genetics," she said, raising her eyebrow and tilting her head in a way that practically _screamed_ Cuddy. "But just so we're clear, this isn't me warming up to you."

"Then what is it exactly? Because you haven't yelled at me, or slapped me, or threatened to kill me yet—all of which you did the last time we were in the same room, in case you've forgotten."

Julia narrowed her eyes at him and took a deep breath before continuing. Her voice grew soft and serious, and for a moment, House wished nothing more than for Cuddy to suddenly re-emerge and get them the hell out of there.

"This is me being strong for Lisa. This is me being exactly what she needs right now—" She broke off and began to laugh in a way that made it clear she didn't actually think it was funny. "For reasons I will probably _never _understand, she has decided that she wants you in her life. For good."

"So you're being supportive?" he asked, his voice full of skepticism.

"I'm not being unsupportive," she answered.

Diplomatic. Cuddy was starting to rub off on her.

"You still don't trust me," he pointed out as he leaned back into the chair.

Julia shrugged.

"I don't trust the past," she said. "But despite everything, she seems to trust you. And I trust her."

"Trust by association," said House in a questioning manner, "I think I can work with that."

Julia scoffed and shook her head back and forth. Her voice softened once more, but this time it wasn't threatening—it was almost calming.

"You want to know the worst part of all this?" she asked

"The fact that my handicap makes me a target for all kinds of physical attacks in jail?" House quipped, semi-jokingly.

"No," said Julia, eyeing him awkwardly. "Although I sympathize with your…situation." She took a deep breath, and this time, formed a genuine smile on her lips. "My father would have loved you."

House jerked his head up and began to twist his cane back and forth between his hands, looking for any distraction—Cuddy rarely ever mentioned her father.

"Dad's never love me," he said, giving her a shrug. And it was true, for the most part. Although he usually never made it to the _meet the parent's stage._

"Ours would have," she answered confidently. "Because you love her. To him, that's all that ever mattered." House stopped twisting his cane in his hands and widened his eyes in disbelief. "He's the reason Lisa is the way that she is. He taught her to believe in people, to believe in the world. He's the reason you're getting a second chance. He's the reason you ever got a chance in the first place."

"Sounds like quite a guy," he muttered. He'd bowed his head and lowered his eyes to the floor, not daring to look Julia in the eye.

"He was," she said.

House lifted his head up, meeting her eyes for the first time, and he knew she wasn't lying, or trying to make him feel better—not that she would ever want to do that in the first place. This was something that she genuinely believed.

He furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his hair, before leaning forward. "So how'd he end up married to someone like your mother?"

Julia smirked before letting out a slight laugh. She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest.

"The same way you ended up with someone like Lisa."

* * *

Lisa Cuddy knocked on the halfway opened hotel room door, not bothering for an answer as she entered. Her and House had arrived at the hotel a little over an hour ago, and while House was busy settling in, she was busy trying to make herself seem, well…busy.

A busy mind is an empty mind. That was her motto, and she was sticking to it.

"Coffee?" she asked, making her entrance known to the inhabitant of the room. She saw Stacy slightly jump in her chair, and for a moment began to regret her unannounced appearance.

But then Stacy turned from her chair at the desk and gave her a friendly smile, and Cuddy relaxed a bit.

"You're a lifesaver," said Stacy, taking the cup from Cuddy's extended hand. "Where's House?" she asked, furrowing her brow as she realized Cuddy was alone.

"He's in the room. I think he was about to shower," she answered half-heartedly. Stacy took a sip of her coffee and nodded at her suspiciously. Cuddy sighed as she took a seat on the bed across from where Stacy sat. "I think I'm avoiding him," she said weakly.

"I thought everything was going okay? He's not still angry with you, is he?"

"It was," said Cuddy, nodding her head and letting her hands rest on the mattress below her, "But then we dropped off Rachel at my sister's, and we checked into the hotel, and it suddenly all felt very…real. He didn't even make a joke when the concierge practically undressed me with his eyes right in front of him."

Stacy chuckled and then took another sip of her coffee. "Maybe he didn't notice," she offered. Cuddy gave her a look of disbelief and a raise of her eyebrows, causing Stacy to retract her former statement. "No, you're right, it's weird. But you know House, he closes himself off from people when he gets scared."

"I know. I was just hoping…" She paused, and then sighed before lifting a hand to her head. "I don't know what I was hoping for. I'm afraid he's pushing me away, and as much as I wish he wouldn't, I can't say I blame him."

"House has pushed me away enough times for me to recognize the warning signs," said Stacy. "Trust me, that's not what is going on here," she said.

"Stacy—"

"Look Lisa, we're friends and despite the fact that we've been hopelessly in love with the same man for over a decade, I feel like I can say this to you without you trying to fling me out that window."

She saw Cuddy open her mouth to protest, but Stacy held up an elegant finger and pursed her lips, silently telling her to let her finish. "You and Greg are terrible at relationships. He pushes people away, and you rarely ever let people get close enough to you in the first place. But somehow, between the fighting and the stubbornness, you two work. And it's time you both accepted the fact that you're stuck with each other."

"So I take it you think I'm overreacting?" said Cuddy drily.

Stacy smirked and shook her head. "I think you're someone who is confident in the decision they've made, but scared out of their mind about the consequences. I think you're a_ human being_, Lisa."

"So I'm not overreacting?"

Stacy laughed at her persistence. "The two of you really are perfect for each other," she said mid-laugh, causing Cuddy to smile. "Go back to your room and talk to House. Try and relax while you're at it. Maybe even have a little fun."

"Fun?" asked Cuddy

"Yes, _fun. _You'd be amazed at what it can do for you," she said in a jokingly condescending way.

Cuddy smiled at her. "You're right," she said. "I don't want to fling you out of that window."

* * *

Cuddy walked back into her room in a much better mood than when she had first left; she knew that she was perhaps being unreasonable, and that they were in a delicate situation—but that didn't mean that all of her fears suddenly disappeared.

She was a planner, and right now, everything was up in the air. She knew where they would be tomorrow, but she didn't know where they would be eighteen months from now.

And that scared her more than she cared to admit.

She walked back into the room and was met with a familiar sight. House was sitting on the bed, his head resting against the headrest and his feet sprawled out in front of him. The television was on, but the sound must have been muted, because the room was completely silent.

He barely acknowledged her when she re-entered, save for a small nod of the head and a quick meeting of the eyes, and her mood was suddenly right back to where it was half an hour ago.

She sighed as she sat down in the chair that faced the desk, and pulled out a copy of Vogue from her bag. She didn't know why she'd grabbed the magazine when they'd stopped for coffee and gas earlier—she wasn't sure she'd read a cope of Vogue since college. But she'd recognized the girl on the cover as someone Amelia had been yammering on about, Jennifer something-or-other, and decided that looking at overpriced handbags and high-end fashion models was better than facing House's icy glare, anyway.

Cuddy flipped through the magazine, making a point to _flick_ the magazine with every turning of the page, just in case House had forgotten she was in the room.

She smirked when she heard him take a deep breath.

Her foot began to tap incessantly as she skimmed through the magazine once more; she'd already read it cover to cover, but figured another read couldn't hurt.

"If you don't stop tapping your foot like that I may be going to jail for murder instead of fraud," he muttered.

"And so he speaks," she said, turning her head towards him and flipping the magazine shut.

"Sorry," he said in a tone that did _anything_ but suggest sincerity, "I've been in a mood."

"I noticed," she said pointedly. She got up from the chair and walked over to the bed where he was sitting.

She lied down on her stomach so that she was facing him, and rested her head in the palm of one hand. The other fell to his leg.

"You want to tell me why you've suddenly gone mute?" she asked, her voice growing soft.

"You've been telling me to shut up for years," he quipped. "Finally took your advice."

"Don't shut me out, House," she said, pleading with him. Her voice broke, and she hated herself for it, because it made her seem weak and afraid, and those were the _last_ things she wanted to be seen as—especially by him.

Because in the eyes of Gregory House, there was nothing worse than being _weak_.

"I'm not trying to," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Doesn't mean you're not doing it," she retorted. "You want to tell me what's changed within the last few hours?"

"I feel like the word _everything_ pretty much sums it up," he answered, looking her up and down. There was a stay piece of hair in front of her face, and he watched as she slowly parted her lips and slightly blew it out of her way.

He wondered if that was the last time he would see her do that.

"I know you're scared—" He opened his mouth to protest, but with a raise of her eyebrows and the slight movement of her hand on his leg, he stopped. "I'm scared too. But that doesn't mean you get to close yourself off. That's not what this is," she said, motioning back and forth between the two of them.

"What is _this_, exactly?"

"I'm not going to answer that question," she said, irritated. She sat up straight so that she was sitting cross-legged, and pressed a hand to her forehead.

"Because you can't, or because you don't want to?"

"Because it doesn't matter!" she exclaimed, her hand flying out to her side. "How many times do we have to have this conversation before you finally accept the fact that I want to be with you?"

"Words don't matter," he said. "You can say it all you want, but what happens when I've been in jail for six months, and you decide that you're lonely, and you know that guy who makes your coffee every morning isn't too unfortunate looking,"

"Shut up," she said sternly, cutting him off.

"Pretty sure you're the one told me to talk, so I'm going to keep going if you don't mind. Eighteen months is a long time Cuddy. You could change your mind."

"So that's what this is about?" she asked. "You think I'm going to just send you to jail and then hop into bed with someone else?"

"I'm not saying you're planning on it, but yeah, it could happen."

Cuddy sighed. "The world could be taken over by zombies tomorrow," she said, placing her hand back on his leg. "That doesn't mean I carry around a zombie apocalypse kit."

"You should really leave the metaphors to me," he said, giving her a slight smile.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "My point is that it's pointless to worry about things that aren't going to happen."

"So you don't believe in zombies then?"

Cuddy smirked and shook her head. She leaned closer towards him, her knees pressing into the mattress as her hand rested on the other side of his leg.

She pressed her lips to his softly, pausing and tugging at his bottom lip for just a moment before pulling away. "Does that answer your question?"

House shook his head and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "I'm not sure I heard you. You might have to repeat yourself."

Cuddy smiled and inched her head forward, and House did the same, catching her lips in his. His hand moved up and down her back, and her hand fell to his chest as she moved on top of him.

She felt his hand move to her hair and tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She smiled into their kiss before pulling away.

"I have an idea," she whispered.

"If it involves anything besides what we were just doing I might make good on that threat I made earlier and murder you," he said.

Cuddy laughed in that throaty and utterly irresistible way, and House tightened his grip on her, taking her by surprise as he swiftly flipped her beneath him.

His lips went to her neck, and she let out a whimper as her hands ran through his hair.

"It involves me, the tightest pair of jeans I own, the black boots I _know_ you snuck into my bag, and lots of alcohol."

House paused and lifted his head from the crook of her neck. He pressed another kiss to her lips, and it took all of her strength not to wrap her leg around him and let him tear all of her clothes off.

Luckily, he pulled away and said:

"I like the way you think,"

She smirked, and her hand paused at the base of his neck as she ran her fingers through the stray hairs.

"It's our last night together," she said. "Might as well go out with a…" her voice trailed, and she grinned wickedly at him before pressing her lips to his once more. His hand moved underneath her shirt, and she quickly placed her hand over his, pushing it back down.

"_Bang_," she whispered.

And then, before he could even register what was happening, she had wiggled out of his arms and was halfway across the room.

"You can't just say things like that and disappear," he called out to her.

She reappeared a few moments later, dressed only in her shirt and underwear, a pair of jeans in her hands.

"I promised the tightest pair of jeans I owned," she answered with a smirk. "I had to change."

House swallowed hard as he watched her elegantly slip into the pair of jeans. Who the hell moved like that, anyway?

"You also promised a bang," he said, getting up from the bed and moving towards her.

Cuddy zipped her boots over her jeans, smiling at him as she flipped her hair behind her. "I didn't say when, did I?"

She stood up from the chair and met him halfway. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his hands gravitated towards her waist. "Besides, I could really use a drink to stop me from thinking about how hard tomorrow is going to be."

House nodded and pulled her closer towards him. She buried her face in his neck, and he breathed her in, her hair pressing up against his nose. He pressed a kiss to her head and said:

"Just so you know, it's taking all the strength I have not to make a "that's what she said" joke."

Cuddy smiled into him, and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck as she wondered if that was the last time she would hear him say that.

* * *

"Is this the same bar I picked you up in?" she asked, throwing her purse on the bar and taking a seat.

"Yep," said House, sliding into the seat next to her. "Gives new meaning to the words full circle."

Cuddy smirked and House held up two fingers towards the bartender. He was met with a look that suggested it would be a minute, and House sighed before turning towards Cuddy, and leaned back slightly, giving the bartender a better vantage point.

He smirked when the guy made his way over to them. Never underestimate the power of a simple glance at Lisa Cuddy.

"What did you just do?" she asked, confused.

"I got us drinks. Using you. Men are pigs, get over it." Cuddy scoffed and shook her head as the bartender reached them. "Four shots of tequila," said House.

The bartender nodded and placed four shot glasses in front of them and began to pour the liquid into them. Once the glasses were filled, he went back to the other side of the bar—but not before his eyes lingered on Cuddy's chest for a moment or two longer than they should have.

"Four?" asked Cuddy with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Yes _four_. One for each hand," he said, pushing two of them towards her. "Besides, it takes you about eight shots to actually get drunk. Two won't kill you."

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked.

She picked up one of the shots and he did the same, and they clanked their glasses together, not caring that some of the liquid spilled over the rim and onto their hands. They simultaneously knocked the drinks back, their eyes widening as the alcohol burned down their throats.

Cuddy winced as she recovered.

"I know everything about you," he said.

"You think so?" she asked, reaching for her next shot.

"I _know _so, " said House, reaching for his as well.

Glasses clanked together once more, and this time the alcohol went down a little easier than the first.

"That's kind of what _I know everything about you_ means," he said, shaking his head and inhaling as the tequila settled in his stomach.

Cuddy held her hand up, except this time, she asked for six. She was met with a look of disbelief from the bartender, who was eyeing her suspiciously.

"Are you going to pour them, or do I have to come do it for you?" she asked. When did she get this forward? It must be the tequila—the tequila she was no doubt going to regret in the morning.

The bartender simply shrugged and poured six shots for the two of them. She nodded in appreciation as he left them alone once more.

"Atta girl, " he said, taking three of the shots from her.

She smiled at him before taking one in her hand and urging him to do the same. This time when they clanked glasses, a little more of the liquid spilled than usual—it was clearly starting to affect them.

"I had an interesting conversation with Julia today," said House, setting his empty glass on the table.

Cuddy widened her eyes and shook her head slightly as the tequila tickled the back of her throat. "I had an interesting conversation with Stacy," she said. "What did my sister say?"

"What did my ex-girlfriend say?"

"I asked you first," she said

House paused before picking up his second shot glass. "Another one first?"

"Good idea," she muttered.

They threw the shots back in unison, this time not bothering to clank them together. They slammed the glasses back on the bar, and laughed—they weren't sure why they were laughing, but they were, and that made it all the more hilarious.

"Spill," Cuddy ordered, turning towards him. She had to wrap her tiny hands around the bar for support, and cursed House inwardly; he was right, eight was her limit.

"She talked about your dad, who you _never_ mention, by the way. Said he would have liked me. Although based on our track record, I can't imagine why."

"He would have liked you, " she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Because you love me, and that's all he ever cared about. A thought process that him and my mother clearly didn't share."

"So he's the reason you are the way that you are," he stated, although he supposed it was more of a question. He looked her up and down and watched as she inhaled a sharp breath.

"I'd like to think so," she said softly, and for a moment, he could have _sworn _she sobered up instantaneously.

But then he saw her shaky hand reach for her last shot, and he smirked; eight was _definitely _her limit.

"Well I guess I have him to thank then," he said, and Cuddy smiled, because they both knew there was no way he would be saying this if he were even the slightest bit sober.

"I should get you drunk more often," she said, a dreamy look in her eye.

"I'm the one who got you drunk," he said, grinning at her. Cuddy laughed, and they both reached for their last shot.

At this point, they didn't even feel the alcohol as it trickled down their throats.

"Stacy still loves you," said Cuddy as she slammed her shot glass on the bar in front of her.

"She said that?"

"More or less," said Cuddy, shrugging her shoulders. "You're not exactly easy to fall out of love with, House."

"She's not who I want to be with," he said, and there was a look in his eyes that she was sure would have been there even if the alcohol hadn't—and even though she wasn't looking for reassurance, she was glad he was offering it.

"I know that. So does she. She also said we both suck at relationships, and that we were lucky to have each other, and we'd be idiots to screw it up."

"Lawyers can be so mean," he said, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. Cuddy laughed and threw her head back, and House eventually joined in.

"We_ would_ be idiots to screw this up," she said, turning towards him.

"You know how much I hate idiots," he answered.

"Well you're not an idiot," she said, her words slurred and her finger pointed at his chest. "And neither am I. So I think we'll be okay."

"Can't argue with that logic," answered House.

And then her lips were on his, and she didn't care that they were in a bar full of strangers, or that she was completely drunk off her ass. All she cared about was the fact that she was here, with him, and that the end of the night was nowhere in sight.

She heard him murmur a soft "I love you" against her lips, and she smiled at the rarity of the three little words. She answered by deepening the kiss, reassuring him in the best way possible.

And they both knew it _definitely _wouldn't be the last time their lips touched that night.

* * *

"It can't be him. There's just no way."

"No way? Foreman, the man was a manipulative bastard who made lying to people a competitive sport. It is most definitely him."

Chase and Foreman had arrived at the bar a little over half an hour ago. When they'd sat down, they'd been distracted by the flock of girls that had suddenly appeared—Foreman chalked it up to Chase's Prince Charming-esque looks, but then reconsidered. After all, the tie he was wearing was pretty sharp looking.

But then they'd heard the familiar laugh of their former boss and _his_ boss, and they were suddenly turned off by the swarm of girls around them—something they didn't even try to hide.

Eventually, they were left alone.

"Besides," said Chase, taking a swig of his beer. "I'd recognize Cuddy's boobs from anywhere."

Foreman gave him a disapproving look, and Chase pushed his beer in front of him. "Like you never looked, " he accused. "Look, now they're making out. What more proof do you need?"

"I've got a death certificate that proves otherwise," he fired back.

"You also have House's hospital badge which was _conveniently _left in your office the day he supposedly died. Maybe we should get you some glasses, because _that _is definitely House."

They watched as House and Cuddy stood up and threw a stack of bills on the table, completely oblivious to the fact that their two former employees were sitting right across from them.

"And that," said Chase, pointing his finger in their direction, "is definitely Cuddy's ass."

"That son of a bitch," said Foreman, shaking his head. "Has he been with her this whole time?"

"Who knows? Think we should follow them?" asked Chase

"Hell no. I'm not getting mixed up in whatever screwed up situation they have going on."

"Probably for the best," said Chase as he took another sip of his beer. "It looked like they were about to go have sex anyway."

Chase dug his cell phone out of his pocket and began to dial before pressing it up to his ear.

"Are you calling the police?" asked Foreman, who couldn't decide if he was surprised or outraged by the thought.

"No, " said Chase, shrugging him off. "I'm calling Taub. He owes me fifty bucks."

* * *

"I'm never drinking tequila ever again," said Cuddy as she collapsed onto the bed.

"That's what they all say," answered House as he plopped down next to her.

They'd taken a cab to and from the bar, anticipating their inevitable inebriation. When they were about halfway back to the hotel, the cab had run over a speed bump—it'd been downhill from there.

House stretched his arm out and she curled into his side, her arm draping across his chest.

"How can I feel drunk yet hung over at the same time?" she pondered out loud. "This is all your fault," she said, poking him in the chest with her index finger.

"Me?" he asked. "You're the one who suggested we go and get hammered."

"Yeah, because you're the one who has to go to _jail _in the morning."

And suddenly the room was deathly silent.

Cuddy bit her bottom lip, instantly regretting her harsh words.

But then laughter replaced the silence, and maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe over time the situation actually _did_ start to be funny—so they laughed.

Her head fell to his chest and his shirt muffled her laughter, and his hand found the small of her back as his deep laugh complemented her throaty one.

Eventually the laughter subdued, and Cuddy sighed as she settled in next to him. Her elbow pressed into the remote that had somehow found it's way under her, and she yelped as the pain shot through her nerves.

She was about to turn it off when she saw that Top Chef was on. She unmuted the television and smiled.

"Look, it's last season's reunion special. Remember when you used Top Chef as a way to get in my pants the first night you were at my house?"

House smirked. "You have to at least give me points for creativity."

"It was definitely a new tactic, I'll give you that," she answered. "Oh my god, Karen and Steve got married!"

"No they didn't," said House, squinting his eyes towards the screen.

"Yes they did. Look, they're wearing rings and everything."

"They're idiots," said House.

Cuddy scoffed, and he began to run his hand up and down her arm, pausing at her elbow and rubbing it slightly.

"They're in love," she said. "It's sweet."

"Well if _they_ can beat the odds of reality television, I think we can handle prison," he said softly.

Cuddy smiled and turned her head so that it was resting on his shoulder. "You think so?" she asked, her hand gripping the material of his t-shirt and pulling him towards her.

"Totally," he said. "I'm much smarter than Steve. And you're ten times hotter than Karen. We can't lose even if we wanted to."

Cuddy didn't respond. She clicked off the tv and kissed him like she'd never kissed him before. Her hands gripped his shirt and his hands tore through her hair, and their breath _reeked _of tequila, but she didn't care.

Because House had told her that everything was going to be okay. That they were going to be okay. That they were going to make it.

And Gregory House was _never _wrong.

* * *

_A/N: Oh oh, the plot thickens. This chapter ended up being lighter than I intended, but you know, it's fanfiction-a little fluff never hurt anyone :) Leave a review on your way out!_

_-Alison_


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Can you believe we've made it to 26 chapters? Because I distinctly remember saying I was going to cut this off at 15. Nevertheless, I've never been more happy to break a promise. This one kind of packs an emotional punch, but the ending is rather uplifting, I think. See for yourself!_

* * *

The air was cold. Gripping. But her hand—her hand was warm. Sweaty almost. Which made sense, considering she hadn't let go of _his_ hand since they'd walked out of the hotel room that morning.

The sun glared through the windows as they drove past the speeding cars, and Lisa Cuddy scoffed at the irony.

It was a beautiful day.

It was one of those days where there were a few clouds in the sky, just enough for the white to contrast nicely against the light blue sky, but not so many that it blocked out the sun.

They were sitting in the back seat of Cuddy's SUV; Stacy was driving, and at first Cuddy had felt silly hopping in the back with House, but to hell with social norms—she didn't want to let go of his hand.

He had given her a glare that suggested she was being ridiculous, but she saw the slight curve of his lips and knew that on the inside, he was silently thanking her for not leaving him alone.

Because in about half an hour, he was the one who would be leaving her all alone. And vice versa, she supposed.

He wasn't leaving her and she wasn't leaving him; they were leaving each other.

The words _beautifully tragic _had never felt so fitting.

He began to trace his thumb over her hand for comfort—for whose, she couldn't be sure, but it didn't really matter. Her head fell to the side of the window, her loose brown curls falling in front of her face, shielding her eyes from him.

She gripped his hand tighter to let him know she was still there.

She wasn't gone just yet.

The sun danced across her face, and she sighed. She felt like it should be raining. That's what happens in the movies when something depressing, or dramatic was happening, right?

There should be rain, or cloudiness, or gray—_something_ to go along with the way they were feeling inside.

But there was nothing. Just sunlight.

Cuddy lifted her head away from the window and turned to face him, giving him a small smile.

He squeezed her hand once more, and her breath hitched as if she were about to cry.

She blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes, and shook her head when his eyes diverted to the ground. He wasn't going to sit there and watch her cry—he _hated _to see her cry, and maybe if he didn't look, it wouldn't happen, and then they could keep on pretending that everything was fine.

But it wasn't fine. And they both knew that, but there was no sense in voicing it.

So she blinked the tears away anyway. Because even though her insides were screaming and she thought her heart might burst from her chest, and she hurt like she'd never hurt before, _she would not cry. _It simply wasn't allowed. She didn't deserve the satisfaction that the tears would bring.

And he didn't deserve the hurt that it was undoubtedly going to cause him.

Suddenly the car came to a screeching halt, and Cuddy's small body lurched forward as the car bounced back, leveling itself out.

"Sorry," came a squeal from the front of the car. Stacy's eyes shifted to them in the rearview mirror, and a slight smile formed on Cuddy's lips as she leaned back in the seat. "I thought I could make the light."

"Are we almost there?" asked House. "Because as demoralizing as being dropped off at jail by my girlfriend and ex-girlfriend is, I'm pretty sure death is worse."

"Well lucky for you, you're already dead," quipped Stacy from the front seat.

"Oh you!" said House, mocking her with his feigned chuckles and a pointed finger. He turned towards Cuddy, who seemed entirely unamused. "See it's funny because that's the whole reason we're here in the first place."

"I'm laughing on the inside," muttered Cuddy. She released her hand from his, and she could have sworn she saw a look of disappointment, anger even, flicker in his eyes.

Whatever it was, she chose to ignore it.

She pulled the small elastic hair tie that lay permanently wrapped around her wrist and hastily threw her hair up into a ponytail, her eyes glaring as her hands tore through her hair.

Stacy averted her eyes back to the road; she was clearly just as uncomfortable as Cuddy was. Although she had considerably less to lose.

House shifted in his seat, his hand grabbing her wrist once it had been released from her hair. He jerked her towards him, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"It's eighteen months," he whispered softly. "It's not the end of the world."

"When did you become the optimistic one in this relationship?"

He shrugged, his thumb brushing over hers once more.

"I took on the role when you decided to go and play Little Miss Benedict Arnold," he answered, returning his voice to the more suitable, laced with sarcasm, tone that she was used to.

Stacy scoffed in the front seat, doing her best to hide the smirk that was forming on her lips.

"Even she thinks I'm funny," he said, nodding his head in her direction. The curve of Cuddy's lips began to form into a smile, and she shook her head before turning towards him.

She laced her hand through his once more, and this time, instead of placing her head on the side of the window, she let it fall to his shoulder.

He breathed in the scent of her hair. He'd had it memorized for years—not that he'd ever tell her that. It was this mixture of citrus and coconut, a combination that only _she_ could pull off. It was powerful and intoxicating with the slightest hint of femininity, just like she was. It reminded him of when she traded in her power suits for a pair of jeans and a menswear shirt, but kept the heels on, just because she could.

They returned to silence a few moments later, save for the deep breaths that House would occasionally release, or the mumbles of frustration at other drivers that came from the normally composed Stacy.

Cuddy didn't know how much time had passed when they reached their destination. She wasn't thinking in seconds, or minutes, or hours. She was thinking in days, weeks, and months. She refused to think about it in years, because a year seemed so far off that it couldn't actually be real, could it?

The car pulled into the parking lot, and her breath hitched as she saw the wire-rimmed exterior, and the high fencing that was below it. She cursed herself inwardly. Minutes ago she'd wanted grey, she'd wanted darkness—she'd wanted something that reflected the way she was feeling inside.

Her eyes scanned the building once more. It turns out sometimes you can get what you want.

* * *

"I'm going to head inside and get started on some of the paperwork. I can stall and give you about fifteen minutes," said Stacy as she put the car in park.

House nodded curtly at her, and she nodded back. Her hand paused as she went to turn off the car, as if even _she _were reconsidering what they were doing. But then she took a deep breath, turned off the ignition, and got out of the car.

She shut the door softly and then walked off, her heels clicking against the pavement. House noticed that she seemed to be walking at a slower pace than normal.

House didn't know what to do. Should they say goodbye in the car? Or should they get out? Was this even goodbye, or were they going to keep on treating it as if it were some type of "see you when I see you" deal? They'd kept up the façade this long, might as well see if it still worked.

But then she turned to face him, and he knew, he just _knew_ she was going to treat this as a goodbye. Because that's what it was. And Lisa Cuddy was hardly one to shy away form the truth.

Especially when it came to him.

So he got out of the car.

Her eyes widened at his sudden movement, and it took her a minute, but she eventually followed. She shut the door with a little more force than Stacy had, and she walked around to where he was standing.

"Jail's not as bad as you think," he said, giving her a shrug of his shoulders.

"I always have liked you in blue," she said, her eyes fluttering into the back of her head in a dreamy-like way.

"That's the spirit," he said, his arm reaching out to playfully nudge her. She laughed, and he smiled, because there were few sounds that were comparable to her throaty, incredibly sexy and undoubtedly lovable laugh.

His arm caught her waist, and he stood up, pulling her close to him. She smiled into his embrace and laughed once more as he said:

"You're not going to leave me if they put me in orange, are you?"

"I guess we'll just have to see," she answered, pulling away from him. She looked up and their eyes met. Her hand moved to his face like it had done so many times before, like it had done the last time she had said goodbye to him.

But this wasn't like that, was it? That had felt so _final_. This felt more like a pause, a time out. Time wasn't stopping for everyone, and they were foolish to think it would stop for them, but maybe if they just held on, if she didn't let go of him, maybe time would cut them some slack.

Her thumb moved across his face, the silky smoothness of her perfectly manicured hand contrasting against the rough stubble that graced his chin. Her shoulders dropped and her eyes held about a thousand emotions that he was trying to work out—fear, sadness, anger, love—they were all there, and he knew he was the reason for them.

So he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Her hand fell to the back of his neck, her face buried in his chest as her other hand gripped the material of his shirt into her first, willing herself not to cry. He ran his hand up and down her back, soothing her as he felt her taking deep breaths into his chest.

"Cuddy," he said, pausing. And he hated himself for what he was about to say, but he couldn't stop it, he wouldn't stop it. Because as much as it was going to hurt, as much as she was going to hate him, it was what they needed. And he knew she would see that—eventually.

She pulled away from him, looking him in the eyes once more. But now there was one very readable emotion: confusion. "What's wrong?" she asked, even though it was a pointless question.

It would have been easier to list what had been _right_ about the situation.

"House," she whispered, but her voice was anything but soft. It was harsh, because she'd known him long enough to know what _that_ look in his eyes meant.

His mouth opened slightly as he searched for the words that they both knew were going to hurt, and she pulled away from him before either one knew what happened. He reached his hand out to her grab her arm and pull her back to him, but stopped inches away from the material of her coat—he didn't deserve to touch her.

His hand fell back to his side, his fist clenching as their eyes met once more. Her arms had returned to their practically natural state of folded across her chest, and he watched as the wind whipped between the two of them.

A lock of hair that hadn't fit into her ponytail had gone astray, but she didn't allow him to move it. She hastily shoved it behind her ear instead, removing the temptation.

"In about a week or so, when the shock of all this has worn off and you're settling back into your routine, you're going to want to come visit," he said, his eyes gradually moving to the ground. She shook her head—she could practically _taste_the but that was coming. "You shouldn't. You should stay in DC. Go back to the way your life was a year ago."

And there it was. She scoffed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

"And you, what? Came to this conclusion all on your own? Didn't think to factor in my feelings at all?"

"I'm not doing this for me," he said, and there was a look in his eyes that suggested this wasn't a spur of the moment decision. And she couldn't decide if that pissed her off or broke her heart even more.

"You're doing this for me," she accused. He nodded gruffly and shifted uncomfortably. "Well you're eligible for Sainthood any day now," she snapped.

"Look, you don't know what it's like in there," he said, trying to make her understand. "My hair will be longer, I won't be able to shave, and I'll be harder, tougher. I won't be the person you're used to."

"You think I care about those things?" she asked, suddenly offended by his blatant lack of trust in her.

"I know you don't," he said, calming her fears. "But you-," his voice trailed and he ran a hand through his hair, and he though for a moment that if he didn't continue, she might actually slap him. "You shouldn't have to see me like that."

"So you can't see me, or you don't want to?"

House sighed. "Which one will make you hate me less?" he asked, his face scrunching up and his brow arching slightly.

"The truth," she answered, her voice firm. She was practically _daring _him to lie to her.

"I never don't want to see you," he said, hoping that would be enough. It was the truth, after all.

She rolled her eyes once more and uncrossed her arms. "That's not really an answer," she said, her eyes glaring.

"You know I'm no good at those," he retorted. She sighed and let out a slight groan of frustration. "Look, I'm not saying we should cut each other off completely,"

"Oh thank god," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she interrupted him.

"They have phones in there. Pen and paper too."

"You're pushing me away because you're scared," she said. "You think that if you force me to stay away, then I can't decide to stay away on my own."

"You think you're fine with this now, but I know you. The minute you walk into that building to visit me, you will have a breakdown. Because you can't believe that something in the world is so dark and grey, and you can't believe that I would end up in a place like that. Because despite evidence to the contrary, you don't believe that I am dark and grey."

Her breath hitched and she reached out to grab his hand, and he let her, because she was right; he was scared.

"I _know_ you're not full of darkness, House. You think you're this deeply wounded person, and you're right, you are wounded. You have shadows and you have demons, but so do I. And I've watched you try to conquer them and sometimes you succeed, and sometimes you fail. But that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I'll stay away if you want me to. But I am _not_ going anywhere."

House didn't know what to say. His mind was overcome with love and lust and adoration, and all he could think was he didn't know how he got so lucky because he most certainly didn't deserve her.

So he kissed her.

He kissed her with all the force that he had within, his hands cupping her face and his lips pressed tightly against hers, because he knew she should hate him, and she shouldn't be standing here in front of him after everything he'd done, and yet there she was, her lips pressed to his, kissing him back just as eagerly.

And her hand was pressing against his chest like she couldn't decide if she wanted to pull him closer or push him away, so he parted his lips slightly and thanked every god he didn't believe in when he felt her hand move from his chest to his shoulder as she anchored herself closer to him.

He felt the sting of salt on her lips and knew that she must be crying, so he broke the kiss and opened his eyes. There was single tear running down her cheek, and he pressed his thumb against her skin, wiping it away. She smiled and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, embarrassed by the amount of tears that she had shed in the past seventy-two hours.

"I think our fifteen minutes are up," she said.

House smirked and let his hand fall back to his side. "Always such a stickler for the rules," he joked.

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a look he was all too familiar with.

"You not following the rules is what landed us here in the first place," she said playfully.

He smirked at her and then pulled her back into him, his arms wrapping around her waist as hers looped around his neck. He rested his chin on her shoulder and she combed her hands through his hair in one of the most soothing motions he had ever experienced.

"I love you," he said into her neck, and she sighed, because she'd never known how much three little words could actually mean until now.

"I love you, too" she whispered into his ear.

His hand gravitated down her back and to her ass, and he squeezed it gently, and she laughed that laugh that he loved to hear so much.

But then he let go of her. And just like she had wanted, time seemed to slow down to a glacial pace. Because he didn't say anything else as their embrace broke, and even though there were a million thoughts running through her mind, the words simply wouldn't come.

His thumb was the last part of him that touched her. It lingered on her pinkie for the briefest of moments, and blue met grey as their eyes locked for what could be the last time for a _long _time. House pressed down lightly on her finger before letting it go—before letting her go.

Cuddy lifted her hand and offered a small wave, and he nodded at her before limping away. Neither one of them was willing to utter the word goodbye, and for once, she was grateful for the silence.

She watched as his huddled figure limped down the parking lot. He was walking at a normal pace; he wasn't in a hurry, but he sure as hell wasn't going to drag it out. She counted the steps as he walked, and her breath hitched as he reached 50.

Cuddy had to squint, but she could make out his figure at the entrance to the building. His hand was paused on the door, and it looked like he turned his head back, just to look at her once more.

She nodded at him once more and gave him a wave, even though she had no idea if he could see her or not.

Suddenly time had returned back to its normal ticking. She saw the opening and shutting of the door, watched as he walked into the building, and squeezed her eyes shut. But this time there was no one to hide the tears from.

And that just made them fall even harder.

* * *

She didn't know how long she had waited in the car for Stacy to return. Once the tears had subdued, she'd gotten back into the car and made futile attempts to busy herself.

She'd thumbed through her phone, checking her email but not bothering to respond to any of them. She'd even pulled up Amelia's number and been about to call her, but at the last minute decided against it. She didn't have the energy to talk to anyone.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cuddy spotted a crossword puzzle that had been torn out of The New York Times. She picked it up, and her breath hitched as she noticed that it had already been filled in halfway.

She would recognize the chicken scratch that House called handwriting anywhere.

Cuddy ran her thumb over the crossword and sighed, debating on whether or not she should finish it. She glanced down at the paper once more, and furrowed her brow before tucking it safely into her purse.

Eventually she had fallen asleep.

Stacy had found her in the passenger seat with her head pressed against the window and what she assumed to be one of Rachel's stuffed animal's tucked underneath her arm. She gently placed her hand on Cuddy's shoulder and nudged her awake.

"Lisa?" she said softly.

Cuddy stirred and then immediately jolted up, embarrassed. She lifted a hand to her forehead, and moved a piece of hair that had somehow gotten stuck to her skin.

"You're back," she said, sitting up straight. "Is he—"she paused, clearly unable to finish the sentence.

"He's fine," said Stacy, reassuring her. "Everything went just as expected."

"Good, that's good," said Cuddy, nodding her head. "I mean it's obviously not _good_…"

"Lisa," interrupted Stacy. "Are you okay?"

Cuddy scoffed and shook her head. She couldn't even begin to answer that question.

"House told me what he said to you." Cuddy eyed her suspiciously, unsure as to which conversation Stacy was referring to. "About you visiting him," she clarified.

Cuddy nodded her head in understanding. "You think he's right?" she asked meekly.

Stacy was taken aback by Cuddy's fragile tone. She had seen Cuddy upset, she had seen her happy, hell, she had seen Cuddy when it looked like she could take over the world—but she had never seen her afraid.

"I think he's scared, and he's looking for a way to fix things. And that was the solution he came up with. I'm not saying it's right, but that's the way it is."

Cuddy didn't have the energy to think about it any longer. There was nothing she could do at this point. He was in there, and she was out here. There was no use in denying that any longer.

"Can we go?" she asked, although it was more of a plea than anything else. "All this wire is freaking me out."

Stacy nodded and turned the car back on. "Do you want me to take you back to the hotel or to your sister's house?" she asked.

"Neither," said Cuddy. She wasn't interested in the cold and empty hotel room, or the _I told you so _vibe that would undoubtedly plague her sister's house. "Take me to the hospital."

"The hospital?" asked Stacy her voice full of concern as she turned her head towards Cuddy. "Are you sure you're okay?" Cuddy saw the worried look present in her eyes, and couldn't help but laugh a little. Somehow, Stacy's concern made her feel a little better.

"I'm fine, really. There are just some people I need to talk to."

"People?" asked Stacy, and as soon as the words left her mouth, she understood. Cuddy was in full damage control mode. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"How much worse could this situation get?" asked Cuddy, arching her eyebrow in a way that Stacy had always envied.

Stacy nodded and then put the car in drive, not bothering to argue. Cuddy watched as they pulled out of the parking lot. Before she knew it the building was disappearing behind her, and she took a deep breath the second it was completely out of view.

She lifted a hand to her eye and wiped away a tear, grateful that Stacy wasn't the type to insult her by tirelessly asking if she were okay. They were both wounded, and over time had formed matching scars and battle wounds that they both tried to hide, but somehow could never hide from one another. And it was comforting to know that if she did ever want to talk, Stacy would be there, and she wouldn't judge, because she did know exactly what Cuddy was going through.

And that brought her more comfort than anything else.

They had reached the hospital before she even had time to change her mind. Cuddy's hand had paused on the door, and Stacy gave her a look that told her they didn't have to do this now.

Cuddy ignored her and got out of the car, shutting the door with persistence.

They wordlessly walked through the parking lot, and Cuddy did her best to ignore the glances she had gotten from some of her former employees. But no one approached her. She didn't know if it was out of fear, or because she had this look of determination etched across her face—she decided she didn't care.

She paused at the front door, and Stacy, who had lagged slightly behind her, stood next to her with folded arms across her chest.

"I never thought I'd be back here," said Cuddy.

"Me either," mused Stacy.

Cuddy shook her head and muttered "Son of a bitch," underneath her breath.

Stacy laughed and followed her friend into the re-opened doors they both thought had shut long ago.

* * *

Everything was the same, yet entirely different at the same time. Her office had been redecorated—although, she supposed it wasn't _her_ office anymore.

The hospital was still short of nurses, Nurse Jeffery was still filing daily complaints to HR, doctors and surgeons were still arguing over the best course of action, the clinic was still full of over-concerned and irrational parents, and the Diagnostic Department was still it's shining star.

The only difference was that she no longer ran the place. And House didn't work there. Or Wilson, for that matter.

A new reign had begun.

Stacy had left her alone, claiming she wanted to catch up with some previous coworkers—a lie which Cuddy was more than happy to believe. This would be easier alone.

She sat in the chair and nervously tapped her foot. She adjusted the loose shirt that draped over the leggings that she had tucked into her boots, suddenly aware of just how _casual _she looked. She supposed it didn't matter, considering she didn't actually work here anymore, but she couldn't help but shake the feeling that her sudden departure had tarnished her reputation.

Although once everyone found out she had been hiding out with House for the past year, her reputation might be worse off than she had left it.

He had always been her weak spot.

She stood up when she heard the sound of the door to her former office opening, and smiled when she saw Foreman and Chase walking through the door.

"Hi," she stammered out somewhat awkwardly.

"Hi," said Chase, giving her his million-dollar smile and warming her heart with his familiar Aussie accent.

Chase walked over to her and gave her a hug, which she gladly reciprocated.

"So are you just in the neighborhood or—" asked Foreman, getting straight to the point.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh at his directness. "Relax Dr. Foreman, I'm not here to take my job back. You seem to have a handle on the place," she said, her eyes wandering around the renovated office.

"I do," said Foreman, walking over to his desk.

Cuddy pursed her lips, and Chase rolled his eyes as he sat down in the chair next to Cuddy.

"I actually have something to discuss with the two of you," said Cuddy, clearing her throat.

"We know," said Chase, saving her the trouble.

Cuddy eyed them suspiciously, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

"We saw you last night," said Foreman. "At the bar. We know House is still alive."

Cuddy paused—how did this keep happening? Every time she tried to tell somebody, fate had beaten her to it. If they had seen her at the bar, than whatever shred of respect they still had for had undoubtedly been thrown out the window.

"Of course you did," she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "But there's more to the story than that," she said.

"I'm shocked," said Foreman sarcastically.

Chase shot him a glare and turned towards Cuddy, whose eyes had suddenly gotten sad. "What's going on Cuddy?" he asked.

"House is in jail," she answered. She breathed a sigh of relief; it had been the first time she had said the words aloud. It felt like ripping off a band-aide—a band-aide that had covered her entire body and soul, and taken ten times the amount of force to remove than normal.

She saw the looks of confusion sweeping across her former employee's faces, and she sighed, realizing she was going to have to explain the whole story to them.

"As I'm sure you've obviously figured out at this point, House faked his death when he was facing jail two years ago. He did it so he could spend the remaining months of Wilson's life with him, and then after he died…"

"He came to you," interrupted Foreman.

"Not exactly," she answered. Chase furrowed his brow and Cuddy sighed before continuing. "Wilson called me before he died and told me everything. I found House in that same bar the night of Wilson's funeral."

"You're still in love with him," said Chase, as if he had just come to some giant revelation. Foreman scoffed and leaned back in his chair.

Sometimes she loved the predictability of this place.

"I never stopped loving him. Such is my lot in life," she said, a slight hint of irony in her voice.

"So why is he back in jail?" asked Chase. "Did he get caught?"

Cuddy shook her head. "He turned himself in." Foreman and Chase gave her matching looks of disbelief, clearly not believing her. "I may have pushed the issue," she said, which seemed to appease them.

"Look, as good as it is to see you, and as…happy as I am that House is okay, can I ask what this has to do with us?" asked Foreman.

"I just thought you might want to know," said Cuddy shrugging her shoulders. "And I need you to do me a favor."

They nodded their heads in understanding, exchanging knowing glances. Apparently, she was just as predictable as they were.

"He doesn't want me to visit him," she said. "I was hoping the two of you would."

"You want us to visit House? In jail?" asked Chase

"I know it's a strange request, but he needs—"Her voice trailed, and she struggled to muster up the strength to finish her sentence. "He needs some type of human connection while he's in there."

"If he's pushing you away, what makes you think he's going to want to see us?"

"He's not pushing me away because he doesn't want to see me. He's pushing me away because he thinks that's what's going to make me stick around in the long run. And no offense Dr. Chase, but House isn't going to be heartbroken if you're not there waiting when he gets out."

* * *

It was colder than he remembered.

He was surrounded by dark colors; the dark blue jumper he had been given, the dull silver of the bars on the cell that encaged him and the other occupant, whose name he didn't care to remember.

He'd been inside for three hours and already it had felt like a lifetime.

He didn't remember time dragging on this slowly. But then again, last time he didn't have anything to come home too. Last time he was running away from something; this time he hoped he was running towards something.

House sat on his bed, counting the speckles on the top of the ceiling. His current count was at 2,357.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the hurt look in Cuddy's eyes when he'd told her to give him his space. A small part of him had regretted it, but a bigger part had known it was for the best. He was thinking long-term. That had to mean something to her, right?

He didn't want to think about what would happen if it _didn't_ mean anything.

House continued to count the speckles on the ceiling. He'd gotten to 3,301 when his cellmate had pulled him out of his trance.

"You new around here?" the man asked. House guessed he was about ten years younger than him; he was in impeccable shape for someone on the inside, which suggested he was in even better shape before he'd been locked up.

House deduced that he was some type of athlete. And based on the needle marks on the inside of his elbow, drugs were definitely part of the equation. Steroids, most likely.

"You could say that," he answered gruffly.

"Jones," said the man, nodding his head in House's direction.

House paused, not sure if he wanted to answer. He glanced up at the ceiling, trying to decide if talking to his cellmate was preferable to silently counting the dots on the ceiling.

"House," he muttered.

Apparently it was.

"So," he began, not bothering to look away from the ceiling—he could multitask, if need be, "you in here because of the drugs, or what the drugs caused you to do?"

"Excuse me?"

House sighed. "You're in shape, but you've been fitter. And you noticed that I was new, which means you've been around here for a while. You have puncture wounds on the inside of your elbow, which indicates drugs. You were an athlete before you got locked up, which means steroids is the most likely cause, although heroin isn't completely out of the question. So I repeat, are you in here because of the drugs?"

"You some kind of doctor?" he asked.

House shrugged. "Something like that," he answered. Then he pulled his eyes away from the ceiling—an action he certainly wasn't anticipating on doing; the guy must have sparked his interest. "I'm also kind of brilliant."

"I figured as much," said Jones. "What about you?"

"I'm not interested in talking about what I did," he said.

"I told you, it's only fair."

"You see normally I would oblige to such logic, but considering you didn't actually tell me anything, I don't feel the need to share. Maybe next time," he said.

"But you didn't give me the opportunity to share. How can you be sure I wouldn't have told you if you hadn't figured it out?"

"How can I be sure you _would _have told me?" retorted House.

"You can't," said Jones, shrugging his shoulders. House was about to turn his attention back to the ceiling when Jones continued to talk. "How about we talk about something else?"

"How about we just don't talk? I like the sound of that," answered House.

"You enjoy the silence? Nobody enjoys the silence." House opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly cut off. "Let me guess, you were about to say _I'm not just anybody,_" quipped Jones.

House's silence confirmed his suspicions, and Jones began to whistle in a celebratory tune. House recognized the song; it was an old jazz song that he'd played on the piano several times. But he kept that to himself, of course.

"You married?"

House paused; he hadn't anticipated the personal questions to come so quickly. "Nope," he answered firmly, not bothering to ask him—mainly because he already knew the answer. "You're divorced."

"How could you possibly know that?" asked Jones, eyeing him suspiciously from across the cell.

"There is a tan line where your ring used to be, but it's not as defined as it would be if the first time you had taken it off had been when you got locked up. Which means you were separated before the arrest, and the arrest sealed the deal. Or unsealed it, so to speak."

Jones scoffed and scratched his head. House smirked as he stretched his leg out in front of him. "I told you I was brilliant," he said.

"I'm not married," said House continuing the conversation. He wasn't sure why he was telling him this, but he had eighteen months to pass—he didn't want to count the dots _too _quickly. "But I have…someone."

"Do you love her?"

House nodded, and then under his breath said:

"I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you if I didn't."

House turned his head away from Jones and looked up at the ceiling.

_3,302, 3,303, 3,304, 3,305…._

* * *

The rest of the day had been a blur. She couldn't remember how she got to Julia's house. She must have dropped Stacy off at the hotel first, because her SUV was parked out front. Unless Stacy had driven and then taken a cab. It didn't matter, really.

Cuddy had walked into Julia's expecting the sight of her daughter to cheer her up, and had been severely displeased with the knowledge that Julia's husband had taken Rachel and her cousins to their house at the shore for the night.

"Your husband can't just whisk my kid away when he feels like it, Julia. Some people consider that to be kidnapping," she had said.

"It's hardly kidnapping when the child's mother is busy dropping somebody off at _jail_. They'll be back tomorrow morning, Lisa. Why don't you go and try to relax?"

"Fine," said Cuddy, walking away form Julia. She was too tired to deal with her sister's incessant need to meddle into her life, anyway.

Her shoulders dropped when she passed her mother sitting at the kitchen table.

"When were you planning on telling us you were harboring a fugitive?" said Arlene as she causally flipped through a newspaper.

"You want me to relax so you called Mom?" yelled Cuddy from the kitchen. "I'm going to lie down, you and Julia can pick apart my brain all you want. I'm not interested."

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Lisa. Your sister was just concerned," she said.

"And you?" asked Cuddy, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well you're clearly upset, although I can't fathom why. You didn't actually think you could get away with this forever, did you? The man faked his death for christ's sake."

"Like I said before, I'm not interested in this conversation," said Cuddy. Arlene rolled her eyes and returned back to her newspaper while Julia awkwardly lingered by the kitchen. "I'm going to lie down."

That was over an hour ago.

She'd tried to sleep, but she couldn't close her eyes without thinking of him. She couldn't do anything without thinking of him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pair of abandoned tennis shoes that had found their way to the guest room. They were black and gray with an orange Nike swoosh down the side, just like his.

Eventually she had turned the tv on, not bothering to change the channel. It was on National Geographic, and there was some type of documentary about Penguins on.

Suddenly she sat up in a slight panic. Her house. His things were all over her house. His clothes, his shoes, his books, his damn motorcycle—everything that he had acquired over the past year was there, sitting in the home that they had built together, waiting to taunt her upon her return.

Cuddy shivered at the thought.

She dug through her purse and pulled out her cell, dialing Amelia's number as quickly as she could.

"Lisa?" answered Amelia, sounding somewhat confused.

"Hi, I need you to do me a favor." God, how many times was she going to say that today? She didn't wait for Amelia to answer before she continued. "Can you go to my house and put all of House's things in boxes? I'll have to find somewhere to store them but I can't…I don't think I can look at them when I get back."

"I would, but that might be kind of hard considering I'm not in the city," said Amelia.

"Where are you?" asked Cuddy. She pulled her knees up to her chest and furrowed her brow, confused.

"Standing right in front of you," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Cuddy looked up and sighed, throwing her phone on to the pillow next to her.

"I'm glad you called," said Amelia as she walked towards her friend. "Saved me from having to talk to your mother any longer. She asked me why I wasn't married yet, can you believe that?" Amelia smiled at her and took a seat next to her on the bed, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" asked Cuddy, half-irritated. Although if she thought about it, her company was better than that of her sister's—or worse, her _mother. _

"Stacy called me. Told me you could probably use a friend who wasn't House's ex-girlfriend-slash-lawyer who put him in jail. And considering the fact that you're curled up in bed at six o'clock at night watching a documentary on Penguins, I'd say she was right."

Cuddy scoffed, leaning her head back against the headboard and stretching out her legs.

"I like penguins," she said somewhat defensively.

"What do you know, so do I," answered Amelia.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Amelia would glance over at her every once in a while, and Cuddy could feel her staring, but thought nothing of it.

Well, she thought nothing of it the first twelve times. She drew the line at thirteen.

"Amelia," she said, drawing out her name, "do you have something you'd like to say to me?" asked Cuddy, turning her head towards her.

"No," said Amelia sheepishly, clearly lying through her teeth. Cuddy arched an eyebrow, calling her bluff. "I just…do you want to talk about it?"

Cuddy paused and clicked off the television. She brought her thumb to her mouth and bit down on her nail, a nervous habit she'd developed in high school and couldn't possibly get rid of.

"House is no longer here. Talking about it isn't going to change anything," she said. "And thinking about it certainly doesn't help."

"Then don't think about it," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Just talk. Whatever you're feeling—anger, sadness, love—whatever it is, just let it out."

Cuddy eyed her suspiciously. "Is this something that people do?"

"You're thinking about it, Lisa," she said, narrowing her eyes at her.

Cuddy huffed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Fine," she muttered.

Amelia laid her hand out, gesturing her to continue. Cuddy took a deep breath and sat up straighter, readying herself for the words that were about to come.

"I am scared," she began, swallowing hard. "I'm scared of how much I love him, even though I know I shouldn't. I'm scared that he's never going to forgive me. I'm scared that somewhere down the line, tomorrow, or next month, or ten years from now, he's going to decide that he doesn't love me anymore, and that this is something we can't actually get past. I'm scared that maybe—" she took another deep breath and brought a hand to her eye, wiping away a tear. "I'm scared that maybe I've been kidding myself this entire time, and maybe love doesn't conquer all. There are things bigger than love, things that I _can't_ control. And that scares me more than anything you can possibly imagine."

Amelia moved her hand to Cuddy's arm, letting it rest there for a moment. She was silent, and for once, seemed to be at a loss for words. Her eyes were sad and understanding, as if Cuddy had just bared her entire soul to her—which she had, almost.

Because she may not understand what Cuddy was going through, but she understood fear. And that was something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.

Cuddy let out a noise that was half laughter, half choked back sob. "How's that for not thinking about it?" she asked

"I think it's a really great start," Amelia offered, smiling at her.

Cuddy sighed and then turned the television back on. "Well I think I've had enough for tonight," she said, turning her attention back to the Penguins.

Amelia nodded at her and turned to face the television as well. But she didn't move her hand away from Cuddy's arm, and she smiled when she felt her head fall to her shoulder.

"Penguins mate for life you know," whispered Amelia.

And she couldn't be sure, but she could have sworn she saw a slight curve of her lips, and she knew she would be okay. Because over the years, she had learned two things: Lisa Cuddy was _fearless_. And she fought for the people she loved.

And with a combination like that, there is no way you can lose.

* * *

The shrill ringing of her phone caused Lisa Cuddy to jolt up in confusion. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the clock; it was half past eleven. When had she fallen asleep?

She glanced at Amelia, who had passed out with her face buried in the pillow. Cuddy smiled at her, grateful for her presence. She'd forgotten what it felt like to have a friend.

The ringing continued and she sighed as she searched for her phone. Once it was found she paused; she didn't recognize the number that was lighting up her screen.

"Hello?" she answered somewhat groggily. She saw Amelia stir and quietly got up from the bed, heading over to the other side of the room.

There wasn't a voice on the other end of the phone. Instead, it was an automated message asking her if she would accept the charges.

_Press one if you will accept the collect call from Princeton County Jail. _

She thought her heart might actually explode from her chest. She pressed the button in a panicky motion, convinced that if she didn't press it quick enough the offer would disappear.

The ringing sound of the phone connecting her to the other line seemed to go on for hours, and her heart pounded with every passing second.

Her breath hitch when she heard him say:

"So bad news. They put me in orange."

She let out a slight laugh and covered her mouth with her hand, trying to compose herself.

"Cuddy," he said she didn't respond. "Are you there? Because I was kidding about the orange."

She nodded and then took a deep breath as she realized he couldn't see her. "I'm here," she said, barely managing to get the words out.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice growing softer.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling at the sound of his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Well I haven't gotten jumped yet, but I've only been in for half a day. And that's usually more of a second week thing," he joked.

"Something to look forward to then," she joked back.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes, because if she hadn't known any better, she would have sworn he was just away on business.

"The same thing I was wearing the last time you saw me," she answered.

"Jesus woman, do you _know_ what the words 'personal hygiene' mean? I thought you said you were a doctor."

Cuddy grabbed the crossword that she had tucked into her purse earlier and headed towards the bathroom.

"How much time do you have?" she whispered as she tiptoed towards the adjoining bathroom.

"I'd say about two more minutes. Not much time for _lovin'_ if you know what I mean."

Cuddy sighed, shaking her head. "That's not exactly what I had in mind," she said as she shut the door and sat down on the edge of the tub.

"What did you have in mind then?" he asked

"How about a little puzzle?"

He paused on the other end of the line, and for a moment she thought that maybe she had said the wrong thing. But then he said a word—the three letter, one syllable word that squashed all of her fears.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

* * *

_A/N: As much as I hate to say it, I think the next chapter is going to be the last. I may do the next chapter and then an epilogue, but I'll have to see how the timing of it all works out. Either way, I so appreciate those of you who have taken the time to read this story. It has truly made the experience all the more fun. Leave a review on your way out and I will love you even more c:_

_Alison_


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: Remember me? I know, I know, it's been a while! But heads up for those of you venturing into college in the near future: there is a reason they refer to November as "No Sleep November." I've been super busy the last few weeks with finals coming up, and considering this is the final chapter, I didn't want to post something that I wasn't 100 percent satisfied with. I really love the way this story ends, but I've toyed with the idea of an epilogue-let me know what you think once you reach the end!_

_There are quite a few time jumps in this, but hopefully it's rather easy to follow. I'd also like to take this time to thank you all for being such lovely, loyal readers. This is the first time I've ventured into the land of Huddy, and you all have made me want to never leave! So, thank you. Also, be on the lookout for some fun holiday one-shots in the near future. I'm a sucker for all things festive!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_16 Months Later_

"Rachel, what did I tell you not five minutes ago?" asked Cuddy.

Rachel sighed, her shoulders dropping as she crossed her arms over her chest. "To sit still," she answered with a huff and a slight roll of her eyes.

Cuddy nodded. "Don't make me tell you again."

Cuddy tapped her foot against the floor and began to fiddle with the golden pendant on her necklace, twisting it back and forth in her hand as she tried to get her daughter to sit still.

They were sitting in the airport terminal, waiting to board their flight to France, where they would be meeting Amelia. As she glanced up at the flight list, a pang of guilt surged through her bones. Was she a terrible person for leaving? Was he a terrible person for cutting her off for all of these months?

She sighed once more. They weren't terrible people. They were good people who were constantly finding themselves in terrible situations. Granted, these situations were usually a direct result of their decisions.

For two people who were supposed to have a certain level of higher intelligence, they sure had a knack for making idiotic choices.

She hadn't spoken to him in over a month. As time went on, the phone calls started to diminish, and the letters began to pour in. She supposed it was for the better; the last time they had spoken on the phone it had ended with her crouched down on the floor, her back pressed against the bathroom door and tears streaming down her face.

She just missed him _so much. _

And for once in her life, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

The letters were different. Writing was easier—for everyone involved. House didn't have to hear her imminent breakdown with every word she spoke, and she didn't have to listen to the unwelcome sounds of life in prison.

But like most things, the novelty eventually began to ware off. The letters were long at first, filled with anecdotes about his job in the laundry room, the sap of his cellmate named Jones, whom he had unintentionally befriended, and questions about her and Rachel. If he was in a particularly chatty mood, he would even ask about Amelia and Joey, although he tried to cover up his curiosity by asking about the bar.

Then, just like the phone calls, they began to slow. They decreased in frequency and length, and even through his words she could tell that he was completely removed from the situation. He stopped asking questions and telling her stories—he stopped pretending that everything was fine, that he was doing okay. The last letter she got had said:

_Jail still sucks. Tell the kid I said hey. I love you. _

_-House (although at this point you should probably just call me man-who-states-the-obvious)_

At least he still loved her. She supposed that was better than the alternative.

Cuddy was jolted back to reality by the familiar scent of coffee being shoved under her nose.

"Here," said Joey as he handed her the steaming cup. "You looked like you could use a little pick me up."

She smiled graciously at him as she took a sip, sighing contently as the warm liquid burned down her throat. "Thanks," she said, too exhausted to be offended by the fact that it looked like she _needed _the coffee.

Joey nodded and took the seat next to her, leaning back against the black leather seat and letting his head fall behind him.

"You still think this is a good idea?" he asked

Cuddy scoffed. "What are you so worried about? You two have been dating for almost a year now."

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Seeing Amelia always makes me a little nervous."

"I noticed," said Cuddy with a smirk, taking a sip from her coffee.

"You tell House you were leaving?"

"I had someone relay the message," she answered, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear as she spoke. Distractions were always her forte. "When was the last time you spoke to him?"

Joey sat straight up, running a hand through his hair. He glanced over at Rachel, who was sitting contently in her seat, her feet swinging back and forth below her as she hummed the tune to that pirate song she loved so much.

"You know, it's been so long, I'm not really sure I could tell you," he stammered out. Cuddy raised her eyebrows in disbelief; he was clearly lying through his teeth.

Joey sighed and turned his head towards her. "I went to see him last week," he relented. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you or not."

"You don't have to hide things like that from me. It's fine…it's good that you see him." She paused, her hand grasping at the golden pendent. "Somebody should," she muttered.

"I tried to talk some sense into him," he offered up, and Cuddy simply scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Which of course did absolutely no good," she interrupted.

"Not in the slightest," he answered, a hint of laughter to his voice. "He called me an idiot, asked about the bar, and how you and Rachel were doing. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Suddenly Cuddy felt Rachel crawling across her lap, and she winced when she felt Rachel plop down on her thighs, her elbows digging into the thin material of her black leggings.

Rachel kicked her feet up behind her, her chin resting underneath her palms. "Joey," she said in a sing-songy voice, "who do you think Amelia misses more, you or me?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes and Joey laughed, leaning closer towards her.

"You know what kid," he began, "I think she misses your mom most of all."

Rachel turned her head towards Cuddy, giving her a playful glare. She sat up and scooted back to her own seat, much to Cuddy's relief.

"We'll see about that," said the little girl, crossing her arms over her chest.

A mechanical voice suddenly filled the air, alerting them to the fact that their flight was being called.

_Flight 236 departing to Paris, France, is now boarding. _

Cuddy took a deep breath, watching as Joey stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, counting to ten inside of her head.

She opened her eyes. People were rushing all around her-families, couples, businessmen and women rushing to make their flights. Joey was looking expectedly at her, as if he had anticipated her reluctance. He paused, trying to determine her next move before she did.

Cuddy bit down on her lip, pausing before standing up.

She grabbed Rachel's hand and made her way over to the gate.

And she didn't look back.

* * *

"Are you trying to be the world's biggest jackass, or is that just an added bonus to the blue jumpsuit you've been donning for the past 16 months?"

Stacy Warner folded her arms over her chest as she angrily leaned towards her client, who sat on the opposite side of the cold, steel table.

"I take it you're on Cuddy's side then," said House.

"It's hard to be on yours when you're so very clearly _wrong_," she fired back.

House groaned. "Spare me the sermon," he said. "I know some people find God when they go to prison, but that's not exactly my speed. That whole irrationality thing is kind of a dealbreaker."

Stacy's hand gravitated towards the cross that dangled below her neck.

"Cute," she said.

House lifted his head up, but his eyes seemed to be glued to the table in front of him. He scratched his head before meeting her gaze.

"How is she doing?" he asked softly

"That's a question you should be asking her, don't you think?"

House shook his head. "We've been over this. It's not a good idea."

"And you think cutting her off completely is a better one? That's the last thing either of you needs right now."

"I think not talking at all is better than her breaking down on the other end of the phone," he snapped.

"Well she's leaving," said Stacy

"What?" asked House, his eyes widening.

"She's going to visit Amelia in France. Their flight leaves tonight."

"How long is she staying for?"

He was suddenly struck with the feeling that this was it. She was done—with him, with everything.

"Two weeks, I think. She just wanted me to tell you she would be gone. Since you won't actually speak to her."

House scoffed. "Her words or yours?"

Stacy smiled. "Mine," she answered, leaning closer towards him, "Her's were a tad more colorful than that. Greg," she said, her voice demanding his attention. He looked up once more, and her eyes narrowed in a way that was all too familiar. "You need to do something," she finished.

"What exactly am I supposed to do? If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of stuck here."

"You'll think of something, you always do," said Stacy. "Look, I'm not going to pretend to know what's going on in Lisa's head, she hides her emotions almost as well as you do, but I do know one thing. You're going to lose her if you don't do _something_."

"You don't know that," he muttered.

"I do know that," she said. "And so do you. So pull the stick out of your ass and talk to her."

Stacy stood up from her seat and reached into her bag, pulling out a manila envelope. She opened it and looked in the direction of the guard, who nodded curtly at her after inspecting the contents.

"Here," she said, sliding the envelope towards him.

House sifted through the papers, smiling when he spotted her loopy handwriting. God, he even missed her _handwriting. _It was a detailed itinerary of her trip, complete with emergency contact information and the list of all the sights she planned on seeing. Once again, House found himself smiling; he never thought he would miss her neuroticism.

"You've only got two months left, Greg. Try not to screw it up."

* * *

"Mommy are we almost there?" asked a tired and restless Rachel Cuddy.

Cuddy chuckled and shook her head. They'd only been on the flight for about three hours, and the excitement had already begun to wear off for the always-energetic five year old.

Cuddy was sitting on the aisle seat, and Rachel had taken the seat next to her, leaving Joey with the window. Although Rachel wasn't doing much sitting—she was constantly shifting between her mother and Joey.

"No sweetie, we've still got a ways to go. Why don't you try to go to sleep? We might be there by the time you wake up."

"_Might?"_ asked Rachel, irritated that her mother couldn't give her a guarantee. Rachel turned towards Joey and raised her eyebrows, hoping that he could offer up a better solution.

"I'm not tired," she said, shifting in her seat.

"Well," began Cuddy, closing the magazine she was pretending to read and turning her head towards her daughter, "you will be when we land. Remember what I said about the time difference?"

Rachel sighed and then nodded her head. "Yes," she answered with a huff. "You said I'm going to be jet fagged."

Cuddy closed her eyes and lifted a hand to her temple, rubbing it out of frustration.

Joey stifled a laugh and sat up. "I think the word you're looking for is lagged, kiddo."

"Oh," said Rachel, completely oblivious to the semi-offensive joke she had unintentionally made. "How come you're not asleep then?"

"If I went to sleep would that make you want to go to sleep?"

Rachel tilted her head to the left and brought a finger to her chin, pondering over the question. "No," she said, shaking her head and giving him a toothy smile.

"Then I guess you have your answer," said Joey, giving her a matching grin.

"Can we read Anastasia again?" asked Rachel to no one in particular. At this point she would talk to whoever would give her the most attention.

"Sure," said Joey. "But this time I get to be that bat."

"Bartok," said Rachel, reaching into the princess backpack that was below her feet and handing Joey the book, "the bat's name is Bartok."

Cuddy looked over at Joey and mouthed "thank you", which he shrugged off with smile and a shake of his head.

Rachel scooted closer to Joey's seat and opened the book, letting it sit between the two of them. Cuddy returned back to her magazine, listening as Joey and Rachel read quietly together.

Ever since Amelia had left to study in France a little over a month ago, Joey had been hanging around her and Rachel a bit more than usual. Cuddy was sure Amelia had put him up to it, but it was welcoming, nonetheless.

Rachel hadn't exactly taken House's sudden disappearance well. Joey's presence sort of offset that at times.

Joey and Rachel were about halfway through the book when she suddenly closed it. Joey gave her a confused look, and she darted her eyes to the ground, her bottom lip slightly quivering as she whispered:

"I don't want to read it anymore."

Cuddy shut her magazine and placed her hand on Rachel's back. "What's wrong Rachel?"

Rachel shrugged and crawled back over to the side of her seat that was closest to Cuddy, resting her head on her mother's arm.

"House used to read Anastasia to me," she said quietly, "and he would always make Rasptuin sound _really _scary but it wasn't that scary it was kind of funny, and Joey does a good Bartok but his Rasputin isn't the same."

Cuddy sighed and lifted her arm up, letting Rachel curl into her side. She rubbed up and down her daughter's back, trying to comfort her, while shooting Joey an apologetic glance.

"When is he coming back Mommy?" she asked, her voice cracking as it threatened to release the tears that had begun to well in her eyes.

"He'll be back before you know it," she said. "Try and go to sleep."

"Will he be back when I wake up?"

Cuddy sighed.

"We talked about this sweetie. House isn't coming back until after we get back from visiting Amelia."

"Oh," said Rachel, disappointed for the second time in the span of one hour. "I wish he was going to visit Amelia with us. I miss him," she added softly.

"I know you do," whispered Cuddy. "I miss him too."

But Rachel didn't hear her; she had fallen asleep instantly. Cuddy stroked her hair lovingly and placed a kiss to her head.

Joey reached up and pulled down the blanket from the overhead compartment and handed it to Cuddy, who draped it over Rachel's tiny sleeping body.

"You should get some sleep, too," said Joey as he handed her thee pillow that went along with the blanket.

She didn't have the heart to tell him that she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in over 16 months.

* * *

"Foreman, it's me," said House.

"House?" asked Foreman. House could practically _see_ the lines on his forehead scrunching up. "Why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be calling Cuddy?"

House groaned.

"You know I'm getting really sick of people telling me who I should and shouldn't be talking to on the phone," he spat back.

"Sorry," said Foreman, although his tone suggested anything but. "I'm guessing you didn't call just to chat?"

"You always were the smartest one," said House. "As long as Chase or Cameron weren't in the room. Or Thirteen. Or Taub, for that matter."

"What do you want House?"

"I want for nothing," he said, smiling to himself. Taking up some of Foreman's precious time was the most fun he would have all day. There was an irritated sigh on the other end of the line. "I need a favor," he finally answered.

"House, I'm a little busy. Spit it out or I'm hanging up."

"Fine," said House. He glanced down at the piece of paper that Stacy had given him earlier, a small smile escaping his lips as his eyes glossed over her loopy script. "You got me out early last time. Think you could work a little bit of your black magic and do it again?"

* * *

Thankfully, Rachel had slept for most of the flight. She'd woken up about half an hour before they were scheduled to land, and seemed to be in a much better mood than when she'd fallen asleep.

They'd cleared customs and retrieved their bags, and were making their way through the airport terminal. Rachel clung to Cuddy's side, gripping her hand tighter than usual—she wasn't used to being around this many people.

But that didn't stop her from talking a mile a minute.

"Mommy, how come they all talk funny?" she had asked. "And why are so many people smoking? I thought you said smoking was bad."

"They're not talking funny, they're speaking in French. And smoking is bad for you," she answered.

It seemed to satisfy Rachel for the time being.

They paused at the gate where they were supposed to be meeting Amelia. Cuddy watched as Joey scoured the area for her, his lips curving into a slight smile whenever he saw a glimpse of blonde hair.

Cuddy checked her watch. Amelia was running approximately five minutes late, so for her, she was right on time.

"Mommy, look! There she is!" said Rachel excitedly.

Amelia was walking towards them, her blonde hair whipping behind her. She was balancing three cups of coffee in her hand and a large paper bag in the other.

Cuddy smiled and gave her a slight wave while Joey went to meet her. He took the bag from her and lightly kissed her lips, which caused Rachel to giggle.

Amelia and Joey walked back over towards them—more like Joey walked, and Amelia rushed over to where Cuddy and Rachel stood, her hair flying behind her as she expertly balanced the remaining two cups of coffee in her hand. One of which, Cuddy presumed was for her.

"Drink this before you say anything else," ordered Amelia, handing the cup of coffee to Cuddy as she reached them. Amelia scooped Rachel up into her arms, tickling her slightly.

"It's nice to see you too," quipped Cuddy, taking a sip of the coffee that had been handed to her. She paused, her taste buds tickling and her eyes widening. "This is the best cup of coffee I've ever had," she said, surprised.

"I told you," said Amelia, setting Rachel back down on the ground. "Since you can't have coffee, I brought you a little something," said Amelia, smiling down at the five-year old.

"For me?" asked Rachel, her eyes widening.

"Yes you," she said, motioning for the brown paper bag that Joey was holding. He handed it to her and she reached inside, pulling out a tiny, bright, candy-apple-red beret.

"Mommy look, it's a hat!"

"It's a beret," said Amelia, placing it on her head. "All the cool kids are wearing them," she said.

"Then how come you're not wearing one?" asked Rachel, furrowing her brow and tilting her head to the left.

Joey laughed and Amelia turned her head towards him, glaring.

Cuddy smiled and then cleared her throat before placing her hand on Rachel's shoulder. "What do you say to Amelia?"

"Thank you!" she exclaimed obediently, throwing her arms around Amelia's waist.

"You're welcome," said Amelia. "Come on," she said, taking Rachel's hand and motioning for Cuddy and Joey to follow. "I have lots of things to show you guys. I don't know if you know this, but France is a really big country."

Cuddy smiled and picked up the backpack that Rachel abandoned, lagging behind the others as she tried not to think about the fact that four of them should have been on that plane, not three.

* * *

After dropping their things off at the hotel, Amelia had rushed them out the door, claiming that the second they sat down, the day would be lost.

"Jet lag is only avoidable if you keep yourself busy for the rest of the day. These next six hours are crucial," she had said, as if it were the most serious thing in the world.

So out the door they went.

Rachel was of course wearing her brand new hat, and excited about every little thing. She had even wanted to take a picture of the squirrel that was perched on the bench in one of the several parks they had wandered through, claiming that it was a French squirrel, so it _must _be different than the ones they saw at home.

Joey must have thought it was funny, because Cuddy saw him pull Rachel aside and snap a picture with his phone.

They'd been wandering around aimlessly for most of the day—Cuddy had wanted to save sights like The Louvre and the Eiffel Tower for a day when they weren't so tired.

Cuddy and Amelia shopped, while Rachel and Joey continued to take pictures of random things on the street. Cuddy's heart dropped when she heard Rachel say:

"I'm going to put all of the pictures in a book for House. Do you think he would like that?"

"I think he would love anything you gave him," he had answered.

Amelia had placed a comforting hand on her arm and then tried to distract her with a beautiful but outrageously over-priced Hermes bag.

"When in France…" said Amelia, pushing the bag towards her.

"I'm pretty sure the saying is "When in Rome," but nice try," answered Cuddy.

Cuddy had needed two more of those tiny little cappuccinos that the French seemed to love so much before she was starting to feel back to normal—well, as normal as she could possibly feel.

Normal had become an unfamiliar feeling to her the past few months. She wasn't sure she had even known what it felt like in the first place.

Around four in the afternoon, they'd made their way back to the direction of the hotel. They hadn't eaten anything all day, so Amelia had taken them to a small café around the corner from where they were staying.

They'd ordered wine and were brought several different kinds of cheese—none of which appealed to the palate of a five year old. Cuddy had found the brightest color of cheese in the bunch and handed it to Rachel, praying that she would believe her when she promised that it was American.

She laughed as she watched Rachel pretend to enjoy it before pointing to something on the other side of the restaurant and begging Joey to come check it out with her.

"Is he always like this?" asked Amelia once Rachel and Joey had left the table.

"Joey?" asked Cuddy, taking a sip of her wine. Amelia nodded as she popped a piece of the cheese into her mouth and nodding her head feverously. "He's been really great with her the past month, but honestly, I think he feels a little guilty. We had a little mishap on the way over."

"What kind of mishap?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," said Cuddy with a sigh. "They started reading Anastasia," she said softly, knowing Amelia would understand what happened.

This wasn't a new occurrence—Rachel had been acting this way ever since House had left.

"Ah," she said, taking another sip of her wine. Cuddy nodded and did the same. "The Great Rasputin Debacle of 2013," she said.

"I was hoping she would forget about it eventually, but she seems to remember every single detail nowadays."

"One of the many life lessons taught by Gregory House, I presume," answered Amelia.

Cuddy smiled, and her breath hitched slightly at the sound of his name.

"Something like that," she said.

"So I can tell how Rachel is handling everything," said Amelia, and Cuddy raised her eyebrows, knowing exactly where she was going with this, "but how are _you _handling things?"

"I'm fine," said Cuddy, a lie neither one of them believed.

"Right," said Amelia skeptically

"Don't I look fine?"

Amelia raised her eyebrow—a single one, mind you—and Cuddy sighed, lifting a hand to her forehead as she unsuccessfully tried to rub the tension out of her.

"You just look sad, Lisa," said Amelia softly. "And I don't like seeing you sad. And if House were here…"

"Well he's not," interrupted Cuddy. "He's not here, and he's been pushing me away for months, and I can't even complain about it because it is entirely my fault. And I have a five-year old daughter who can't even get through a _book _without crying."

"Okay," said Amelia, drawing the word out and taking away Cuddy's glass of wine for the time being. "Let's get a few things straight. The situation you're in right now is not your fault. It was bound to happen eventually, and at least now it's on your terms."

Cuddy scoffed, opening her mouth to protest, but Amelia didn't give her a chance.

"House is pushing you away because he is so scared of losing you that he thinks it's the only solution. I'm not saying it's right, but his thought process—as flawed as it may be—is not without merit. And you know that. And Rachel? Rachel is _fine. _She's managed to wrap a tattooed twenty-seven year old bartender around her tiny little finger. I'm not worried about her, and you shouldn't be either."

Cuddy sighed dropping he shoulders slightly. There was no point in arguing—they both knew Amelia was right.

But knowing that something was right and believing that that somehow makes everything okay are two very different things.

"Lisa?" said Amelia, waving her hand slightly. She sighed, her voice softening. "Did you even hear a word of what I said?"

"Yes," said Cuddy, nodding her head. "Can I have my wine back please?"

"Only if you promise to stop thinking. You're in France—a place you've _always _wanted to go for that matter—you should enjoy it. That's what vacations are for, you're supposed to forget about how terrible your life is."

Amelia took a sip of her wine and then paused, noting the amused look that had suddenly swept across Cuddy's face.

"Not that your life is terrible," she said quickly, trying to recover. "Because it's not, it's just a little difficult right now, but everyone has difficult times in their lives. I mean look at me, I'm sure Charlie has written my name down in his revenge notebook. He probably wrote it down twice, just for good measure."

Cuddy furrowed her brow. "Charlie has a revenge notebook?" she asked, leaning closer.

"It's a figure of speech," said Amelia drily.

"How is he doing by the way?" asked Cuddy. She was desperate for a change in subject.

"Charlie? Fine I guess. I actually have no idea," she said, and a look of surprise had come across her face, as if she hadn't even realized that it had been over a year since she had spoken to him. "We haven't talked much. He called me when he heard that Joey and I became you know, Joey and I, but other than that it's been pretty quiet."

"How did he react to the Joey thing?" asked Cuddy.

She had been so wrapped up in her own personal life that she had momentarily forgotten that Amelia had made some pretty huge milestones—getting a prized internship in France, for starters.

"He was fine," said Amelia, shrugging her shoulders. He said, and I quote, 'I just want you to be happy'. As if I didn't already feel guilty enough," she said, taking another swig of her wine.

"But things with Joey are good?" she asked

Amelia smiled a smile that Cuddy knew all too well—that ridiculously happy, over the moon, feel like you could take on the world type of smile.

"Yeah, things are good. He introduced me to his sisters before I left," she said.

"The infamous Roman Numeral Tattoo sisters?" asked Cuddy, her eyes widening.

"The one and only," she said, nodding her head. "Although technically it's three I guess," she said, her words filled with smiles and laughter.

"A lot has changed in the past two years," said Cuddy, her voice softening as she nodded along.

"It most certainly has," said Amelia. "But for the better, I think."

Cuddy paused, tilting her head. "You think so?"

"Oh absolutely," said Amelia. "I know everything is kind of suckish right now, but think about how happy you were when House came back into your life. And yeah, he may be gone for the time being, but it's already been sixteen months, he only has two left. And putting up with eighteen months of being slightly miserable is worth it if you're guaranteed a lifetime of happiness."

"There are no guarantees when it comes to House," said Cuddy, refusing to acknowledge any other aspect of what Amelia had said.

Amelia rolled her eyes and shook her head. She pushed Cuddy's glass of wine back towards her and then paused, her eyes dancing and a knowing grin on her face.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," she answered, and Cuddy eyed her suspiciously, taking a draining sip of her wine instead of trying to figure out what the hell Amelia was up to.

* * *

They'd been in Paris for a little over a week now. They'd visited the Eifel Tower, spent hours dabbling in The Louvre, walked underneath the Arc De Triumph—they'd even made a trip out to see Moulin Rouge.

Amelia spent most of the day working, leaving the three of them to sort of fend for themselves. They went to parks on the edge of the Seine, roamed around the city, stumbling across historical buildings and taking in every possible inch of culture that the city had to offer.

After nine days in the city, Lisa Cuddy was exhausted—and by the looks of the five-year old body sprawled out on the bed next to her, so was Rachel.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh as she gently rubbed her sleeping daughter's back. It was about five in the afternoon, and Amelia would be back any minute. She knew she should wake Rachel up, but after a long day of shopping and wandering, they were both exhausted. Besides, she'd already decided to give Amelia and Joey the night to themselves.

Joey had of course, been staying in the room with Amelia, but she was gone most of the day and the two of them had been entertaining her and Rachel for the entire week—they deserved to be alone for a bit.

She was perfectly content with a night of books and room service.

A soft knock on the door brought Cuddy out of her trance, and she glanced down at Rachel, who seemed to be knocked out. She pressed a kiss to her head and stroked her hair lightly before getting up to answer the door.

"You're back early," said Cuddy as she opened the door to a grinning Amelia.

Amelia nodded and peered her head into the door of the room. "It was a slow day. Is Rachel asleep?"

"Yeah, I think the week is finally catching up with her. I should wake her up soon if I want her to sleep at all tonight."

Amelia shrugged, a wicked grin on her face. Cuddy sighed—she could tell Amelia was up to something.

"Give her another thirty minutes," she said. "In the meantime, you can pack."

There it was. The _something. _

"Where am I going?" asked Cuddy.

"Let me in and I will explain it to you," said Amelia.

Cuddy sighed and opened the door, which Amelia pushed past expertly. She went over to Cuddy's closet and grabbed one of her larger duffel bags, carefully placing it on the bed so to avoid waking up Rachel.

"What are you doing?" asked Cuddy, following her over to the bed.

"Getting your bag together," answered Amelia pointedly. "It's pretty warm there now, but probably not warm enough to swim. Although you probably won't want to be doing any swimming, I mean I obviously don't know your preferable nautical activities…"

"Amelia, slow down," said Cuddy interrupting her. She took her by the elbow, leading her away from the bed and into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly.

"Why are we in the bathroom?" asked Amelia, confused by the new surroundings.

"Why are you packing me a bag and rambling about whether or not I like swimming?" fired back Cuddy.

"Right," said Amelia. "Details. Sorry. You're going on a little trip," she said, smiling at Cuddy, who seemed severely unimpressed with this new development.

"I'm already on a trip," she said.

"Yes, but I'm sending you on a special one." Amelia reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope, handing it to her. "Here, open it and see where you're going."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and tore open the envelope. Amelia watched as she pulled out the ticket, smiling to herself as a small smile formed on Cuddy's lips.

"This is a train ticket to Normandy," said Cuddy, examining the ticket. Amelia nodded excitedly, her eyebrows rising in anticipation. "It's leaving tonight?" she asked

"In three hours, to be exact," said Amelia, pointing to the time on the ticket.

"Amelia, this is very sweet, but I can't just leave. What about Rachel? Or you, or Joey?"

Amelia shook her head, rolling her eyes simultaneously. "Joey and I can handle Rachel for the weekend. Look, a little bird told me that you had always wanted to go to Mont Saint-Michel, and I, being the _fabulous_ host that I am, have decided to give you a vacation from your erm…vacation."

"Does this little bird talk to _everyone_ but me?" asked Cuddy.

House was the only person who could have told her that. He could arrange for her to get her dream vacation, but he couldn't manage to pick up the phone and talk to her.

The universe could be a fickle bitch.

"Will you focus please? We need to get you packed and to the train station. This is the last train out tonight, and you are going to be on it even if I have to physically carry you myself."

"Are you sure you can…"

Amelia held up her hand.

"If you finish that sentence I may actually have to murder you," she warned.

Cuddy shook her head and walked out of the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" whispered Amelia as Cuddy disappeared back into the room.

"Apparently I'm going to Mont Saint Michel," said Cuddy.

She didn't even try to hide the smile that had started to form on her lips.

* * *

It had taken even more convincing once they had gotten to the train station. Cuddy hated the idea of leaving Rachel alone, and as much as she wanted to see the island, she didn't want to sacrifice the little time she had in France with Amelia—she hadn't realized how much she had missed her until she seen her.

She was a little busy missing someone else.

But Rachel had kissed her on the cheek, told her she loved her, and said:

"You should go see your castle Mommy. Queens and Princesses deserve to see castles. Just make sure you take lots of pictures!"

So after what was quite possibly the longest hug in the world, Cuddy had left Rachel in the more than capable hands of Amelia and Joey, gotten on the train, and tried to relax.

Try, being the operative word.

The train ride wasn't long, only a little over two hours. It wasn't terribly crowded, either. She'd managed to snag a seat on the window and avoided having anyone sit next to her. The placement of her purse on the unoccupied seat probably had something to do with that, though.

She'd learned long ago that the best way to travel alone was to make it look like she wasn't _actually _alone.

It was close to midnight by the time she had settled herself into the small inn where she was staying. Even though it was late she had decided on a night filled with room service, a book, and a bubble bath—something she only ever gave, never took. And Rachel's bubble baths were _anything _but relaxing.

Mainly because they usually involved toy dinosaurs and volcanoes made out of bubbles.

She'd slipped into the fluffy robe that had been left for her in the bathroom and opened up the complimentary bottle of wine, sighing contently as she took a small sip.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

She'd wait to run her bath when her food had arrived, settling for curling up on the queen sized bed with her book. The only sound that accompanied her was the cackling of the fire she had lit—it was unusually chilly for this time of the year.

Cuddy sighed as her eyes wandered to the other side of the bed. Even in times when she was supposed to be alone, she couldn't help but think about how much better things would be if she weren't.

She was about thirty pages into her book when there was a knock on her door—she sat up, confused. Her food had gotten here earlier than she had anticipated.

Cuddy got up, pulling her robe tighter against her body as she made her way to the door.

But when she opened the door, room service wasn't what she found.

Instead, standing right in front of her for the first time in over a year was none other than Gregory House.

* * *

He was sure she was going to slap him. Or maybe kiss him. Or maybe shut the door in his face.

Her mouth was hanging slightly open—a very non-Lisa Cuddy response, and there was a look in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. She looked confused, which he supposed was an appropriate response.

But he swore she had never looked so beautiful. There were remnants of the lipstick she had been wearing earlier, which he assumed had been rubbed off on the glass of wine that was sitting on the bedside table, and her hair had this slight wave to it that suggested she had been wearing it straight, but as the day progressed, her natural curls started to come out—as they always did when she chose that particular hairstyle.

And there was a sparkle in her eyes that said she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and never let go, but the clearing of her throat and the fidgetiness of her hands suggested otherwise.

House watched as Cuddy took a deep breath and tightened the string to the robe she was wearing—he didn't even want to _think _about why she was doing that.

"I um…I thought you were room service," she said, finally managing to stammer something out after what felt like the longest moment of his life.

"Nope, just your friendly neighborhood convict," said House. Cuddy laughed and let out a slight smile, which House decided to take as a good sign. "Are you going to invite me in or are we going to keep standing here like idiots?"

Cuddy opened the door wider, watching as he limped in. His limp looked more defined, but you couldn't tell by the look on his face. She assumed being out of jail had something to do wit that.

She _hoped _that seeing her was a contributing factor, too.

"House," she said seriously, watching as he awkwardly milled around her tiny hotel room, "how is it that you're here and not…."

"Rotting in jail?" he finished

"Finishing out your sentence," she clarified.

"I got out," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"But how…"

"Does it really matter?" he asked, his voice sad and full of longing. Cuddy looked up, their eyes really meeting for the first time.

He could tell she didn't know what to do with her hands. He could practically see the thousands of thoughts that were running through her mind, and he watched as she paused, smiling as she got closer to him.

"Was it illegal?" she asked, arching her eyebrows and folding her arms across her chest.

"Not in the slightest," answered House honestly.

And for the first time in what felt like twenty years, she didn't doubt a word he said.

So she did the only logical thing she could think of: she closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling at him as his hands gravitated to her hips.

"I guess it doesn't matter then," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

House smirked, pulling her closer. He pressed his lips to hers, tentatively at first, as if he were asking her permission. She answered with a fiery passion; parting her lips and allowing him entrance as his hands roamed her back.

"Cuddy," he said, pulling away reluctantly. "I'm sorry I pushed you away."

"I'm sorry I sent you back to jail," she answered, a hint of laughter to her voice.

"I love that I can _always_ hold that over your head," he joked.

"Don't press your luck," she answered, arching an elegant eyebrow.

He simply smirked and pressed his lips back to hers.

The truth was, he never dreamed he'd get this lucky.

* * *

She laced her hand through his, running her other through the hot water, the bubbles tickling her skin. She leaned into his back, sighing as she felt his chin fall to her shoulder.

"So was all of this your doing?" she asked, turning her head slightly.

"It is always my intention to get you naked, Cuddy. Kind of thought you'd figured that out by now," he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"That's not what I meant," she answered, relishing in his touch. "You had to have known I was here, which means you either called Amelia first and she told you, which is possible but unlikely, _or_ you set this up yourself."

House shrugged.

"I may have made a few calls," he said. "Stacy told me you were in France, I couldn't let you have all the fun. Plus Foreman owed me a favor. Thought it was time I cashed in."

Cuddy scoffed. "Who knew jealousy could turn out so well," she quipped.

"I also kind of missed you," he said.

"Really?" asked Cuddy, turning slightly to face him. She brought her hand to his face, stroking his cheek lightly before running her fingers behind his ear. "That could have been remedied by a simple phone call."

"But this is so much better, don't you think?"

She grinned up at him.

"It definitely has its perks," she whispered.

"Do me a favor, will you?" he asked. Cuddy raised her eyebrows, telling him to continue. She felt his hand move to his leg, and the words he spoke next confirmed her suspicion. "Can you grab the bottle of ibuprofen out of my bag? The flight was a little hard on it."

Cuddy nodded and patted his leg before slipping out of the tub.

He watched as she wrapped a towel around her dripping body, the water cascading from her skin as she made her way to the other room.

She returned moments later, her fingers wrapped around the bottle of what she _assumed _were pills.

House sat up, his heart pounding as she took off the cap. He watched as she poured the content into her small hand, her eyes widening and a small gasp escaping from her lips.

There, sitting in the palm of her hand, was the most beautiful diamond ring she had ever seen.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, shivering slightly as the water dripped from her hair and the weight of what she held in her hand finally registered with her mind.

House eyed her suspiciously, pausing before answering:

"What does it look like? It's a ring," he said.

She cautiously walked back over to the bathtub, perching herself on the edge and crossing her ankles underneath her.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" she asked.

House smirked. She wasn't being coy—she was going to make him work for it.

"I've heard rumors that you put it on your hand, although there has been much debate as to which one. I'm partial to the fourth one on your left hand, but it's really up to you."

"Are you asking me to marry you?" she asked, a grin sweeping across her face.

"Are you saying yes?" he asked, leaning forward.

Cuddy grinned wickedly at him, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. She sat up straight, increasing the distance that he decreased only moments ago.

"I asked you first."

House sighed. She was _really _going to make him work for it.

"Cuddy, will you…"

"Yes," she said, interrupting.

"You didn't even let me finish!" he said, grinning at her as his hand flew to the side.

"I didn't need to," she answered.

"You're that sure?" he asked, although he was unsure why he insisted on doubting her. She'd told him earlier not to press his luck—he made a mental note to start listening to her more often.

Cuddy slipped the ring on her finger rather dramatically, making a point to show him that it was indeed her fourth finger on her left hand. She didn't take her eyes off of it, and she smiled as she let the towel that was covering her fall to the ground.

Her silence scared him for a moment, but then she unwrapped herself and slipped back into the tub.

She took his hand in his, the feeling of the diamond between their hands a welcome intrusion.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she answered, pressing her lips to his once more.

As their lips meshed together, they smiled, knowing they were having the same exact thought: they would never have to worry about being lonely again.

* * *

_Thoughts? Like I said, I love the way this ends, but an epilogue certainly isn't out of the question._

_Thanks for the ride! It has certainly been an enjoyable one._

_-Alison_


	28. Epilogue

_A/N: I know you all probably think I forgot about this, but fear not, for I have FINALLY finished this story. After starting this epilogue several times and going in different directions with each re-write, I finally settled on this. And it's a little bit different than what I imagined, but I think it works. It's focused heavily on Rachel, and there is a MASSIVE time jump, but I added in quite a bit of backstory to what has happened between the end of the last chapter and now. And I gave just enough information that if I wanted to, I could write tags to certain scenes (you lucky readers you). _

_Thank you all so much for the continued support and love throughout the duration of this story. I am so glad I decided to venture into the world of Huddy fanfiction, and I know this story will definitely not be my last. _

* * *

_Epilogue_

Eighteen-year old Rachel Cuddy marched through the kitchen, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor and her arms folded across her chest as she glanced at the clock. She sighed, blowing a lock of her long brown hair out of her face as she realized the time.

They were going to be late of they didn't leave _now. _

She caught a glance of herself in the mirror that hung on the wall as she passed through the kitchen. Her normally straight hair had been curled for the evening, although the effort she had put into it was essentially useless—the humidity that often accompanied DC summers practically ensured that her curls would not last the night. Her makeup had been meticulously applied, though she did not need much. The thickness of her eyelashes required just a tad of mascara, and her green eyes shone brightest underneath shades that were more kin to earth tones than anything else.

A candy apple red stained lip—her signature color—polished off the look.

She smirked to herself when she spotted him in the living room, his nose in a book and his feet propped up on the coffee table.

"You're not ready," she stated, slamming the book shut. House jerked his hand away just in time, his eyes meeting hers as he glared at her.

"For the end of days?" he quipped, leaning back into the couch with a smirk on his face. "Can't say that I am. But then again, are any of us?"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"We were supposed to leave five minutes ago. Mom is going to be pissed if we're late."

"Your mother was supposed to come home and make sure that I made it out of the house on time. Since she failed to do her part, I don't see why I have to keep up my end of the bargain."

Rachel raised her eyebrows and cocked her hip out to the side in a _very_ Lisa Cuddy fashion, and House groaned to himself.

"Mom is stuck at work, which I know you know, because you work at the same place. On the same floor, no less. And she didn't fail to do her part, she simply passed on the responsibility to me," she answered, holding her hand out to help him up. "So move your ass before you get the both of us in trouble."

House waited a few moments, then moved his leg off of the coffee table, taking Rachel's hand as he stood up.

"Haven't we had about a million parties for you already?" asked House as he slipped on his jacket. "I'm worried you're becoming a bit self-absorbed."

"We had one party when I graduated three months ago," she answered as she ushered him out the door. "And we're not going to a party, we're going to dinner," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders and smiling widely at him.

House shut the door behind him as they made their way down the steps.

"A dinner _party_," clarified House.

"Yes, a dinner party where we will be celebrating my upcoming departure for college and marveling over the fact that Mom has managed to put up with you for ten years now."

A small smile crept across House's lips, and Rachel sighed, mocking him as she placed a hand over her chest.

"You're growing soft in your old age," she said as she got into the car.

"There is nothing soft about me," he fired back. "Just ask your mom."

Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You're disgusting," said Rachel.

"Speaking of your mom," began House, a wicked grin on his face.

"Dear god _please_ no—"

"I've made a list of all the times I've covered for you in the past couple of years, and I thought now would be a good time to go over it, make sure we don't get our signals crossed."

"Signals crossed?" asked Rachel, shifting in her seat as she turned towards him.

"Well yeah," said House, his eyes never leaving the road. "I wouldn't want to _accidentally _tell her about the time you stayed out until three in the morning when you were supposed to be spending the night at Emma's, or the time you skipped school to go see that art exhibit in New York, _or _the time you went to that concert and the only way you got in was because you had a fake ID."

"Okay, okay," said Rachel, lifting her hand up. "I get it. Just assume that she doesn't know about anything and we'll both be safe. Because face it, if she finds out about any of that, you're going to be in so much more trouble than I will be. I'm her kid, I'm supposed to lie to her. Besides, it's going to be a little hard to punish me if I'm hundreds of miles away, and you're, oh what's the word…_not._"

House paused as he pulled into the hospital parking lot, parking in the spot next to Cuddy's SUV. She had a good point.

He hated that she had a good point.

"Besides," said Rachel, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, "if you tell mom about anything you've filed away in that brain of yours, I'm going to be forced to tell her that _you're _the one who spilled that expensive wine on the carpet, not Grandma."

"Blackmail," said House as he put the car in park. He turned towards Rachel, who was smiling fondly at him. "I've taught you well."

They got out of the car, and Rachel walked over to where he stood.

"You have no idea," she answered, looping her arm through his as they began to walk towards the hospital doors.

* * *

The wand of her mascara was running through her lashes when she heard him barge through the door to her office. She smiled into the mirror as she set the applicator down on the bathroom sink and pursed her perfectly glossed lips, simultaneously running a hand through her slightly curled hair.

She heard him rest his cane against the wall to the bathroom, and she could feel his eyes on her from the doorway.

Lisa Cuddy leaned slightly forward, smirking to herself as she gave him a better view. Her dress was only half zipped, and she was sure that the black lace bra she had put on this morning was showing.

Her blue eyes widened as she felt his hands on her back. The zipper of her dress was suddenly being pulled down, the cold metal juxtaposing against the warmth of his hands. She bit down on her lower lip, straightening up as she slightly turned her head to face him.

"I think you're confusing up from down again," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and turning around in his arms. His hands fell to her hips, pulling her closer to him.

"I think you're confused about me being confused." He gently pushed her backwards, pausing when she collided with the sink. "I feel that my intentions were pretty clear."

She raised her eyebrows and then reached behind her, pulling the up the zipper to her dress. His face fell and she patted him apologetically on the shoulder before moving her hand to the base of his neck. She pulled him down towards her, pressing her lips to his in a slow, tantalizing kiss.

"We're going to be late," she said, pulling away from him and untangling her arms.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back, and she smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "We're already late."

Cuddy paused, her eyes darting around her office as if a sudden realization had hit her. She folded her arms across her chest and backed away from him.

"Aren't you missing someone?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

House shrugged.

"I let her go bother the interns," he answered. Cuddy rolled her eyes and walked out of her bathroom and back into her office. House followed as she walked over to her desk and began to rummage through her purse. "I think she's trying to convince the shy one to ask her to marry him."

"You know I hate it when you let her do that," she said, throwing her purse over her shoulder. She tried to hide the amused look on her face, but House caught the brief smirk that had escaped her lips.

"Let me do what?" asked Rachel as she bounced into Cuddy's office, her hair spilling over her shoulder. She turned towards House, smirking at him. "You owe me twenty bucks."

He scoffed.

"There is no way you managed to pull that off," he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Pull what off?" asked Cuddy, raising her eyebrows. Rachel winced at the tone in her mother's voice.

She decided to ignore it for the time being.

Rachel shoved her left hand towards House, beaming at him as she displayed the newest addition to her dainty hand.

There, on the fourth finger of her left hand, was a bright, cherry-red ring pop.

"We're to be married next June," she joked, her voice going up an octave higher than it usually was.

House shook his head.

"The bet did not include fake marriage proposals, let alone a fake _ring._ You lose."

"There were no stipulations to the bet," said Rachel, folding her arms over her chest. "Pay up."

"Sorry," said House, shrugging his shoulders. "I left all my money in my other wallet. You know, the one that doesn't actually exist."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and dug through her purse, pulling out a crisp twenty-dollar bill and handing it to her daughter. "Here," she said, ushering Rachel out the door. "We're late enough as it is."

Rachel shrugged, tucking the money into her designer clutch. She lifted the ring pop to her lips, sucking the flavor from it. House nodded curtly at her, and she smiled as she removed the candy from her mouth.

Cuddy sighed, shaking her head when she realized that this had been their plan all along.

House joined her at the door to her office, but she held out her arm, stopping him from going any further.

She took him by the hand, lifting up on her tiptoes and whispering into his ear:

"You're going to have to pay me back later."

* * *

"Okay," began Amelia, clapping her hands together excitedly—which of course, caused House to groan—" I think it's present time," she finished, looking at Rachel who sat across the table.

Cuddy sighed, shooting her friend a look. In the past three months, Amelia had managed to buy everything that Rachel could possibly need in a dorm room. "I told you to stop buying her things," said Cuddy.

Amelia rolled her eyes.

"I didn't buy it," she said, a wide smile on her face. "I _made _it."

"I tried to stop her," said Joey, placing a loving hand on her shoulder and smiling over at House and Cuddy.

"You did a great job!" said House sarcastically.

"Can I please just give her the present?" asked Amelia, exasperated. She looked over at Rachel, who was grinning excitedly at her. Amelia smiled—Rachel had aged beautifully over the years, but every once in a while, the four year old that captured her heart over a decade ago came out.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh, placing her hand on House's forearm as she lovingly rubbed it up and down. She knew this wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but Rachel was leaving for college in three days—this was probably the last time they would all be together like this for a long time.

Rachel took the bag from Amelia, her eyes widening as she pulled out the contents.

Inside the bag was a corkboard with pictures and mementos glued together, creating a collage of sorts. In the middle was a picture of her, House, Cuddy, Amelia and Joey at their wedding this past summer. Other pictures were scattered about, but they all connected in some way.

"It's beautiful," said Rachel, running her hand over the various pictures. Amelia and Joey smiled at her, and Rachel turned towards House and Cuddy, showing them the pictures. "I didn't even know you had all of these," she said, beaming.

The pictures varied in age; there was one of House and Rachel when she was about seven, and House was teaching her how to play chess.

"I think that ended with you throwing a bishop at him," said Cuddy, laughing.

House rolled his eyes and moved his hand to the back of his neck—she'd had good aim, even at the age of seven.

"I'm sure he deserved it," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders.

She'd eventually perfected the game, and nights during the summer, when she didn't have to worry about school the next morning, she and House would pop in a movie—usually some type of Tarantino film, or the occasional Hitchcock—and play chess into the wee hours of the morning while the movie played in the background.

It used to drive Cuddy mad—which, if they were honest, made the two of them want to do it more often than they did.

"I think this one is my favorite," said Amelia, pointing to one in the corner. It was the three of them on the night of Amelia and Joey's joint bachelor/bachelorette party. Rachel was holding on to both Cuddy and Amelia, who were more than just a little tipsy.

They were all laughing about something—none of them seemed to remember what it was.

"I can't believe you took that picture," she said, glaring at House. She'd decided to go drink for drink with House that night, momentarily forgetting that he was twice her size and had built up a steady tolerance.

He smirked at her.

"I saw an opportunity," he began, turning towards her, "and I capitalized on it."

"Is this from your honeymoon?" asked Rachel, pointing to a picture of House and Cuddy.

Cuddy nodded and House rolled his eyes—he hated the word "honeymoon." They didn't have a honeymoon, they went on a _trip. _

A trip that took them all over the states, where they went to concerts, toured national landmarks, stayed in lavish hotels and countryside inns. They had no real agenda, which made it all the more fun.

In the picture, House had his arm around Cuddy, and she had her hand on his chest, beaming into the camera. Her hair was curled more than usual, and she was wearing double the makeup she usually did.

Rachel looked closer at the picture, covering her mouth and letting out a slight gasp.

"Mom, are you wearing a _leather mini skirt_?" asked Rachel

"Yes she was," said House triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear.

Cuddy blushed.

"We were at a Rolling Stones concert," she said defensively, "I had to look the part."

House leaned over the table, his eyes moving towards Joey.

"You should have seen what was underneath," he said, just loud enough so that everyone could hear.

Cuddy swatted his arm disapprovingly but slightly amused, and everyone laughed, including Rachel.

After years of living with House, she was used to his colorful antics and frequent talk of her parent's sex life. Sometimes she would let him hang around when she had friends over, just to see the mortified looks that would come across their faces.

"Oh this one is cute," said Cuddy, pointing to a picture of Joey and Rachel.

It was a picture of Joey and Rachel at House and Cuddy's wedding. The picture itself was focused on an eight-year old Rachel, who was sitting on Joey's shoulders. But blurred in the background, you could make out two huddled figures sharing a kiss.

If you squinted hard enough, you could see the floor length white wedding dress that Cuddy had worn.

"If you two had gotten married earlier," began Rachel as she looked over at Joey and Amelia, "we might have been able to recreate that same _adorable_ image."

"Don't look at me," said Joey, placing his hand on Amelia's shoulder, "she's the one who needed convincing."

After they had been dating for around three years, Joey had finally worked up the courage to ask her. It had been a spur of the moment type of deal, so he didn't have a ring. Which, given her response, was actually a good thing. She had responded by saying "At some point in time, I would love nothing more than to marry you. I will let you know when that time is."

Last winter she had come home and wordlessly taken his hand, letting him run his finger over her left ring finger. On the inside of her finger was an infinity tattoo. Her skin was still red and she had winced when he touched it, but she had a bright smile on her face and a hint of tears in her eyes.

He kissed her, told her he loved her, and taken her out to dinner. They'd ended the night at the very same tattoo parlor where she'd gotten hers done, and he let her hold his other hand as he got the tattoo—something he'd never let _anyone_ do for him.

He'd given her an actual diamond ring on their one-year anniversary in June, which she wore around her neck.

"I did not need convincing," she stammered out, her hand toying with the ring around her neck. "I just wasn't sure I was ready for the whole marriage thing. It had nothing to do with you."

"Which suggests you needed convincing," said House

"Should we talk about how long it took the two of you to get married? It took you double the amount of time it took me."

"We knew each other longer than the two of you, it doesn't count," said House.

"A fact that only backs up my claim," Amelia retorted.

Joey and Cuddy looked exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes simultaneously. The five of them could rarely get through a meal without House and Amelia going head to head.

Rachel ignored them, turning her attention back to the pictures in front of her. She would smile or laugh as a memory came flooding back to her, and Cuddy placed her hand on her daughter's back, rubbing it lovingly.

"I hate to break up this little love fest," said Joey, clearing his throat, "but uh, I think Rachel has a visitor."

House and Amelia stopped their conversation, and Cuddy and Rachel looked up, Rachel's eyes widening. Her on-again-off again boyfriend Drew—who after graduation three months ago was suddenly _off _again—was standing in front of them.

They'd broken it off for good when he suddenly announced that he was going to stay in DC and go to Georgetown, while she was headed for Columbia in the fall.

They hadn't spoken since.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cuddy saw House clench his fist, and she raised her eyebrows and shook her head, silently begging him not to say a word.

"What are you doing here?" asked Rachel, after what was possibly the most uncomfortable silence of her entire life.

"Same thing you are," said Drew. Rachel gave him a blank stare. "Going away dinner with my family."

"But you're not really going anywhere, are you?" said Rachel snidely.

Drew shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.

"Can we talk outside?" he asked

"I'm busy," she said, taking a sip from her water glass. "Besides, we haven't spoken in three months. Why change all that now?"

Cuddy placed her hand on her daughter's forearm. "Rachel," she said quietly. "You should go."

"Mom," she hissed, her eyes pleading with her.

"You're leaving in three days," whispered Cuddy. "You're going to regret it if you don't at least go talk to him."

"She's right kid," said House. Cuddy and Rachel turned towards him, both of their eyebrows raised. House wasn't one to get involved with her personal life—that was more of Cuddy's territory. "But feel free to slap him if need be," he said, just loud enough so that Drew could hear.

Rachel let out a slight laugh and then sighed, getting out of her chair. She walked past him without saying a word.

Drew hung back awkwardly and then gave them all a slight wave. "It was nice seeing you all again," he muttered before walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Amelia lifted her drink to her lips, smirking to herself.

"Damn," she said, setting the drink back on the table. "I forgot how cute that boy is."

* * *

After Rachel had been gone for about ten minutes, House and Cuddy migrated over to the bar while Joey and Amelia hung back at the table. Even though it was half full, Cuddy had insisted that her drink needed freshening up, claiming that the ice had "watered it down."

In reality, she wanted to be closer to the door to keep an eye on Rachel. House knew that, of course, but he let her think that he didn't.

He smirked to himself when she chose a seat that gave her a clear view of the pair outside.

Cuddy took small sips of her drink, her eyes darting to the door every thirty seconds or so.

She finally sighed and set her drink on top of the bar.

"Maybe I should do something," she said sadly. She furrowed her brow and turned her head towards House.

He shook his head.

"She's fine, let her handle it," said House, taking a sip of his drink.

Cuddy rolled her eyes, her voice growing louder and firmer with each syllable.

"He's yelling at her!" she exclaimed, pointing in their direction. House set his drink down and turned his head, sighing as their eyes met. "I can't just sit here and watch," she said, lowering her voice.

"She probably deserves it," said House with a slight chuckle. Cuddy glared at him. "If it bothers you that much don't look at them. Look at me instead."

House gestured to himself, smiling at her. Cuddy sighed, her face softening.

"You do look pretty good tonight," she said. "You wore the pink shirt." Her hand fell to his chest, tugging at it. "And you didn't shave," she said running her hand from his chest to his face, stroking his cheek gently.

He'd learned several years ago to keep his face at a decent looking level of scruff. He'd shaved his face entirely a few years back, and she had gotten irrationally upset. She refused to kiss him for three whole days.

"I told you I would learn eventually."

She smiled, her hand falling from his face to take his hand.

"Only took us about ten years," she said, smirking at him. "Thirty, if you want to go that far back."

"It's been a hell of a ride."

She smiled as she felt him squeeze her hand tighter.

"It's not over yet," she answered, their eyes locking. House picked up his drink and raised it to her.

"God I hope not," he answered. They clinked their glasses together and then took a sip, their eyes never leaving one another.

They set their drinks back on the bar, and then Cuddy pulled him by the hand, bringing him closer to her. She pressed her lips to his, leaning slightly forward in her seat. She ran her free hand across his cheek, tucking it behind his ear to grab on to the stray hair that lay at the base of his neck.

She regretfully pulled her lips away from his before they got too carried away.

"Just think," said House as he let go of her hand, "in three days we can have sex whenever we want _wherever_we want, and we can stay up late playing strip chess."

"Don't we do that already?" asked Cuddy, furrowing her brow.

House paused, cocking his head to the side as he mulled over her question.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head, "but at least now there is no chance of the little sea urchin walking in on us."

Cuddy scoffed at his unusual term of endearment.

"I'll drink to that," she said, clanking her glass with his once more.

"Uh oh," said House, setting his drink down and looking towards the door. "We got incoming."

"What's wrong?" asked Cuddy, her eyes moving in the same direction.

She saw Rachel walk back into the restaurant, with one arm folded across her chest and the other tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, staring at the floor as she walked. Cuddy sighed—it was her classic look of distress.

Cuddy saw her head for the bathroom, and she pushed her glass away and got up from her seat.

"I'm going to go make sure she's okay," she said, grabbing her purse.

House nodded and then got up, making his way back towards the table.

Cuddy took her time as she walked the few short steps that it took to get to the bathroom, trying to give Rachel enough time to compose herself and gather her thoughts.

She opened the door slowly, her face falling as she spotted Rachel sitting on the small couch in the waiting area by the sink. She locked the door behind her—as far as she could tell no one was waiting to use the bathroom, and even if they were, she didn't care.

Rachel was sitting back, arms folded across her chest as she angrily tapped her foot on the ground. Cuddy sighed—this wasn't going to be good.

"Everything okay?" asked Cuddy, sitting down next to her daughter.

"Peachy," muttered Rachel. Cuddy nodded, and leaned back into the couch, not wanting to push her—it was best to let Rachel do the talking in situations like this.

They were silent for about a minute when Rachel finally piped up, letting out a sigh.

"Mom?" she said sheepishly, turning her head towards Cuddy. "Do you think I'm a selfish person?"

"I think you're an eighteen year old girl who knows exactly what she wants."

"So that's a yes?" asked Rachel, sitting up straight and letting her mouth hang open slightly.

Cuddy shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "That's not what I said. Is that what Drew said?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders.

"Not exactly. I don't think he meant to imply it, but I'm not stupid, I know what he was trying to say. I've been bitching for three months to everyone about how _he _is the one who lied to me about school, and how he is solely responsible for the end of our relationship, but I don't know, maybe-maybe I just didn't want to admit the fact that I'm a little responsible too."

Rachel stared down at her folded hands, fiddling with them in her lap.

"Breakups are hard," said Cuddy. "And there are always two sides to them, and rarely is there ever one person at fault. Blaming the other person is more therapeutic than anything else."

"He hates New York," began Rachel, looking up. "I mean _despises_ it, but he applied to Columbia anyway, simply because he knew that's where I wanted to go. And he never showed specific interest in a school, so I just assumed that he didn't care." She paused, biting down on her lower lip. "Apparently he did."

"You can't sacrifice where you want to go to school just to save your relationship. And neither can he."

"I know," said Rachel, nodding her head. "Breaking up was the right decision. But I spent this whole year thinking about going to Columbia and studying Art History, and the only people who entered my mind were people like Warhol and Monet and Renoir, and I just—"her voice trailed, and she looked up at Cuddy, who had placed a comforting hand on her knee. "I probably could have thought about Drew a little more."

"You'll know for next time," said Cuddy, giving her a smile.

Rachel rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"This is all your fault, you know," said Rachel jokingly. Cuddy scoffed, shaking her head. "You've surrounded me with all of these damaged adults. Of course I screwed up my relationship."

"Well honey, we tried the Leave it to Beaver route, but frankly it was a little boring," said Cuddy flatly. "And you didn't screw up your relationship, you're eighteen—it was doomed from the start."

Rachel let out a slight laugh and unfolded her arms.

"Mom?" she asked again, "what if there isn't a next time?" she asked, her voice timid and afraid.

"There will be several "next-times", trust me," said Cuddy. Rachel looked up, turning slightly to face Cuddy. "And who knows, maybe you'll go to college, have a one-night stand with someone, he'll get expelled and you won't talk for years, until one day you're his boss. And then some twenty odd years later, you're happily married."

Rachel sighed, scrunching her nose up. "God, I hope my life doesn't turn out to be as dramatic as yours."

Cuddy laughed, wrapping her arm around her. Rachel leaned in to her, letting her head rest on her shoulder as Cuddy lightly kissed her forehead.

"I hope so too," said Cuddy, her words laced with laughter but not void of truth.

* * *

A few hours later, Cuddy found herself sifting through Rachel's room. After they'd left the restaurant, Rachel had decided to stop by her friends Emma's house, who was also leaving for college relatively soon.

Rachel had given her a pleading look, and Cuddy caved, promising her daughter that she would finish boxing up some of her things while she was gone.

She'd gotten most of her clothes together when she spotted something sitting on Rachel's desk.

It was a mirror that she had painted a design over, and then taken a black permanent marker to it, her loopy and artistic handwriting written all over it. Cuddy smiled; Rachel had always been intelligent, graduating at the top of her class and attending an Ivy League University, but academics were never as important to her as art was.

She dreamed of working as a museum curator, or owning her own galley one day, and to a doctor, that outlook on life could be refreshing.

Cuddy glanced back at the mirror. It was titled:

_Things I Have Learned from the Ridiculously Cool People In My Life:_

_1) __Pumps say professional, stilettos say professional hooker. (be sure to keep your audience in mind!)_

_2) __Know your limits. But don't be afraid to try and surpass them. _

_3) __Needing someone doesn't make you weak. _

_4) __Always wear your watch on your non-dominant hand. Spilling your drink to check the time is never fun (and it's always messy!) _

_5) __Love is always worth the risk. _

_6) __Whatever you're dying from, it probably isn't lupus. _

_7) __Patience is sometimes necessary for the people you love. But don't be a doormat—find a balance. _

_8) __Families come in all different shapes, sizes, and bloodlines. _

_9) __It's important to see the world as it is and to see the world as it could be. But don't forget to peak into the grey area every once in a while. _

_10) __Sometimes, people do change. And if you find the right person, the change is usually for the better. _

Cuddy smiled as she wiped a stray tear from her eye. Sometimes, she couldn't believe how great a kid she and House managed to raise. Although judging from the mirror in her hand, Rachel had grown up with four parents, not two.

And Cuddy smiled again, because she could pinpoint who was responsible for each little saying.

She set the mirror back where she found it, and headed towards the door to her daughter's room. She paused at the doorway for a brief moment and took a deep breath before shutting off the light.

* * *

"Hey," said Cuddy, greeting House with a slight smile as she walked into their bedroom.

She removed the flimsy elastic that had been holding her hair up in a messy bun, shaking it out with her hand as she moved towards him on the bed.

"You okay?" he asked, noting the slightly pained expression on her face. He slipped off his glasses and cast the medical journal he had been reading to the side, and she smiled at him as she flopped down on the bed next to him.

"Yeah," she answered, moving a pillow out of the way and curling into his side. She let her head fall to the crook in his shoulder and draped her arm across his stomach, sighing contently. "I was just packing up some of Rachel's things."

"You didn't start crying, did you? Because I'm gonna be honest here, I might start thinking a little less of you if turn into a sentimental sap," he joked.

She swatted his arm, letting out a slight laugh.

"We did okay, don't you think?" she asked, lifting her head up to look him in the eyes. "I mean she got into a good school, she's not a serial killer or anything like that, so we must have done a few things right."

"Her not being a serial killer is _definitely _a plus," answered House. He began to run his hand up and down her arm, and she wrapped her arm tighter around him, nuzzling into his neck.

She kept her cheek rested on his chest as her finger began to play with the imaginary frays of his t-shirt.

"And you're…happy, right?" she asked, pausing all movements.

House looked down at her, his hand stopping to tug at her elbow.

"Where is all of this coming from?" he asked, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

"Nowhere," said Cuddy, shaking her head slightly. "I was just thinking too much."

"You know I hate it when you do that," he joked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She let out a slight laugh and buried her face into his shirt, breathing him in. He moved his hand back to her arm, pulling her closer. "Cuddy," he said, drawing her attention back to him.

"Hmm," she murmured into him, closing her eyes.

"You are the only person I want to play strip chess with, if that answers your question."

Cuddy's eyes fluttered open and she lifted herself up, moving her hand from the center of his chest to his shoulder as she arched herself on top of him. "I am so glad to hear it," she said, beaming down at him.

He smiled and she pressed her lips to his as she placed her leg between his, hovering over him. He ran his hand underneath her shirt and she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.

They both moaned when they heard a knock on their door.

"Are you guys being gross?" called Rachel from the other side of the door.

Cuddy, sighed, moving off of him. He reached out, trying to pull her back, but she swatted him away.

"Trying to be," said House out of frustration.

"Well could you stop for like five minutes? I have to ask you something."

She didn't wait for a response, choosing instead to open the door.

"Please, come on in," said House sarcastically.

Cuddy shot him a glare.

"I thought you were staying with Emma tonight?" asked Cuddy.

Rachel shrugged.

"I was going to, but she still has a lot of packing to do, and you know, I'm leaving in three days and I just…well I found that old Woody Allen movie that Mom likes, you know the one where Owen Wilson goes to Paris and somehow travels back to the 1920's? And I still haven't packed up my chess board yet, so I thought that maybe we could all just, I don't know, hang out or whatever."

"Sounds good," said House, pulling Cuddy back towards him. "Give us half an hour," he said, now halfway on top of her as his head fell to the space between her neck and shoulder.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh, pushing him away and squirming out of his gasp. She got off the bed and walked towards where Rachel stood.

House grudgingly followed, frustrated by the sudden change in plans. But then he saw Rachel let out a smile as Cuddy passed her, and the feeling quickly passed.

And he watched as Cuddy turned her head over her shoulder, pausing at the doorway before pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and smiling widely at him.

He walked past them, his hand catching Cuddy's elbow as he said:

"I'll make the popcorn."

* * *

_A/N: Oh goodness, I hope you had some pancakes to soak up some of the sap I've thrown at you. Leave a review on the way out (it's you last chance!), and again, thank you so much for reading this story. It was certainly a highlight of my year._

_-Alison_


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